


snapshots of a scattered heart

by chevythunder



Series: before, during and after [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Companion Piece, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chevythunder/pseuds/chevythunder
Summary: Isak knows he's being thought of as nothing other than roommate, friend and listener. He's fine with it.He is.





	1. not a contender

Even moves in on a weekday. It’s sunny for parts of the day, rains a little bit in the afternoon. They get lunch with Even’s parents, all of them crammed around a back table at a lunch restaurant Isak’s never been to before.

It’s the first time in almost two years a parent, any parent, has paid for one of his meals and Isak doesn’t know how to thank them in a way that doesn’t make that obvious. In the end, he settles for something just short of being enough. It’s become something of a habit for him as of late.

 

Later that day, Even unlocks the door, the first time in a long row to follow. It’s going to become an every-day thing soon enough. Isak is glad he got to see the first time, Even’s smile infectious as he comes into the hallway. It’s a nice smile. 

Isak smiles back, his coffee cup a little too hot in his hand. He has to shake out the tingling afterwards, going to bed with the nerves still prickling, waking up.

 

-

 

It’s easy, becoming friends with someone so open and unapologetic as Even. Isak is usually a background character, but he feels ready to go to centre stage with Even after only a few weeks. 

“I like him,” Linn says on a rainy day, a newly baked muffin in her hand. Even has come and gone, but he left a tray of baked goods in the kitchen.

Never has anyone bought the eternal respect of roommates quicker or cheaper. Isak takes another one, pulling off the wrapping and adding it to the steadily growing pile in between them.

“Me too. He’s cool.”

Linn nods.

They eat in silence for a while.

“Do you want to watch Jeopardy?” Linn asks.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

He gets all the questions about science; Linn takes all the history ones. They manage alright with literature and pop culture, but Isak can’t help but wonder if they would’ve done better with Even on the couch.

 

-

 

There’s a distracting sound in his the back of his mind, a non-rhythmic, thoughtless beat of a somewhat desperate longing that takes up too much space for it to be comfortable. He’d like to get rid of it. He’d like to not have had it in the first place.

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one being annoyed by it.

“What is up with you today?” Sana says, narrowing her eyes at him. She’s sitting with her back against the sofa, looking perfectly comfortable on the floor in her family home.

Isak is only a little bit jealous of her. He’s working on it.

“Nothing,” Isak mumbles, concentrating on filling in the final information in the spreadsheet in front of him. “I’m almost done.”

He can hear Even and the others in the next room. He wants to listen closer but is determined to not be overbearing. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that’s grown louder the more time he spends with Even, one he’s been trying to push down ever since it first introduced itself. He doesn’t need it, doesn’t want it.

Can’t indulge it.

He can feel Sana still looking at him, so he throws her a smile before opening the book up to the next chapter. “Did you get the question about reproduction in amoebas, cause I don’t understand it.”

Sana waves her hand dismissively. “Do you want some coffee?” Sana asks, her tone a little too abrupt.

“Um, sure?” Isak looks at her. It’s Sana’s turn to give a fake smile, complete with too-shallow dimples for it to be real. “Don’t you want to finish this first?”

“Sure,” Sana says. There’s another smile. He can count all her teeth, see where they've bitten into her lipstick, the colour fading into a softer version of its usual rigidity. “But we’ll have coffee after.”

He watches her go back to work, slightly confused but not stupid enough to ask her any further questions. The less she glares at him, the better.

 

Sana makes the coffee eventually, returning from the kitchen to put a mug with ornate painted flowers all over it. 

“Thanks,” he says, before frowning a little at the taste. “Did you put sugar in this?”

“Do you need sugar in it?” Sana asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“You’ll get it with the next one,” she says dismissively. She throws a look towards the hallway, seemingly checking if they’re alone. “I… can I talk to you about something?”

He puts the mug down. “Yeah.”

Her tone is unfamiliar to him. She’s never sounded this unsure before. She reaches up to fix her hijab, pushing the pins in a little further.

“I don’t want to be rude,” she says. “But- your mum.”

Isak’s hackles raise within the shortest of moments. “What about her?”

“How did you deal with that?” Sana is looking down at her cup, obviously trying to seem casual. “When you still lived at home.”

He frowns, can’t help but throw a look at one of the many family photos adorning the walls and bookshelves around the room. “Are… is there something wrong? With, um, I don’t know, your parents or something?”

“No,” she says, calm and direct.

“Okay.”

She sighs. “It’s just- I have a feeling that something’s not right with a friend of mine and I don’t know what to say to them.”

He’s treading dangerous grounds, but he has to ask. “Do you think they’re schizophrenic?”

“No, they’re not,” she says, biting her lip. “I think their mum is sick, I don’t know if it’s schizophrenia though.”

Isak leans back, sipping his slightly undrinkable coffee. He pulls his knees up and tries to think about what he can say that won’t discourage her completely. He’s in no way a shining beacon to healthy parental relationships.

Thankfully, Sana beats him to it.

“I just don’t know how to talk to her about it,” Sana says, her eyes widening as soon as the words are said. “I mean, them. I don’t know how to talk to _them_ -“

“Sana.” Isak tries to catch her eye. “I’m not going to say anything. To anyone.”

She looks at him for a moment. A miniscule drop in her shoulders is the only clue that she believes him. “How do I bring it up?”

“You don’t.”

“But-“

He shakes his head. “No.” This he knows like the back of his hand.

They sit silently for a minute, Sana looking more and more irritated as the seconds pass. Finally, she huffs out a sigh. “I can’t just not ask her.“

“She won’t tell you anything if you do,” Isak says. “It’s only going to make it worse, she’s not going to talk to you about anything important if you try to make her. That’s not how it works.”

“Why not?” Sana asks.

“Because it’s fucking embarrassing,” Isak says, a little louder than intended. He closes his eyes for a brief second, choking back the more harmful words wanting to escape. “That’s the whole point of not telling anyone, you look around and you see all these perfect people with their perfect families and their perfect lives and it makes you feel like shit. So if anyone even mentions something about the thing that makes you different, you throw it back in their face and shut them down.”

Sana looks slightly taken aback, her eyes widened.

Isak continues before he loses his courage, trying to soften his voice a little. He doesn't know how well he succeeds. “She’s not going to tell you if you pressure her, if you try to fix it. You can’t fix it.” He shrugs. “It’s not up to you.”

“So what do I do?”

“You just… you just do what you always do. Be around. Don’t push.”

Sana looks down. “It’s not enough though.”

“It is. And if she’s anything like me, she’ll tell you eventually.” Isak nudges her a little, enough to make her meet his eyes. “I did. You’re a good friend, Sana.”

She smiles, a little embarrassed as always when complimented. “She’s nothing like you.”

“No?”

“No, cause she’s actually cool,” she smirks.

He gasps dramatically, not bothering to fight his smile. “How dare you?”

She laughs, rolling her eyes before going back to her laptop. Isak continues sipping his coffee, mulling the conversation over.

There’s something not quite right about it.

“How do you know?” he asks.

“What?”

“How do you know her mum is sick?” Isak frowns a little. “Did you see her at the doctor's or something?”

Unless he’s mistaken, Sana’s blushing a little. “Eh, no. I just- saw a text on her phone and then I, like, overheard someone else talk about it to the school nurse and I just… connected the two.”

“I thought girls were supposed to talk to each other,” Isak says, half teasing and half confused. “Isn’t that your thing?”

“And I thought you had gotten rid of your shitty stereotypes,” Sana fires back.

“Right,” he says. “Sorry.”

She pauses for a moment, uncharacteristic in her hesitancy. “I probably should talk to her about it.”

“I just told you not to push it,” Isak says. "It's not that difficult."

He only notices his voice is a tad too judgemental, too hard when Sana straightens up, pulling the book towards her.

“I didn’t-“ he starts, but she won’t allow it. 

“I heard you the first time,” she says, effectively cutting him off. “Are you done with the coffee now, so that we can get some actual work done?”

“Yeah,” he says, pushing his half-full mug away. “I’m done.”

 

-

 

Even is in love with Mikael. That’s the way it goes. 

He comforts Even as best he can, talks him through it. There are enough of sore spots in the conversation for Isak to know that this is something Even’s thought of, mulled over and agonized about but never actually said out loud.

It seems liberating when Even finally does, confirming Isak’s suspicion after only a few seconds of hesitation. Isak watches him closely as the words escape, tries to steal some of the feeling from Even, just to know what it feels like.

It feels warm.

 

-

 

He thinks of Fredrik sometimes, wonders if he’s happy at uni. Wonders if he’s still angry. Wonders if he still wishes they’d never gotten together, that they’d never been boyfriends.

Wonders if he still hates Isak.

 

-

 

“I feel like this is a strong look for me,” Even says, standing in a ridiculous pair of overalls in the middle of the second hand shop. He pulls what Isak thinks is supposed to be an imaginary hay straw out of his mouth and gives Isak a nod. “Howdy.” 

“Oh my god,” Isak mumbles, turning away just so Even won’t see how big his smile is. Judging by Even’s laugh, he already knows.

“I’m never showing my face with you in public again if you buy those,” Isak says, rifling through a row of satin shirts.

“Yes, you will,” Even says. “I’m your favourite.”

Isak doesn’t answer, busying himself with his phone. No one’s texted him, but he scrolls through his photos for a while, until Even’s back next to him, trying to peek at his screen.

“That’s rude,” Isak says, locking the phone and putting it away. “Don’t you have manners?”

“I’m telling my parents you think they didn’t give me manners,” Even says, poking Isak’s side.

Isak wants to catch his hand, hold it for a while. He rids himself of the thought before it can fester.

“Your parents like me too much to believe any such slander,” he says, making sure his voice is prudent enough for Even to smile in delight. It grows when Isak lifts his chin a little, giving a haughty little sniff, as if deeming the entire situation beneath him.

For some reason, Even likes it when Isak lays it on a little thick, making a little bit of a fool of himself. Isak’s dignity has lost out to Even’s smile more times than he’d like to remember in the short months they’ve been living together.

He needs to get out of this but, unfortunately, there is no exit. Even seems to be a one-way street, and the road is closing in on Isak.

 

-

 

School drags on, somehow managing to provide nothing new while, simultaneously, nothing stays the same as the people around him keep changing. Isak would like for them to pause, to stay still if only for a moment so that he can catch up. So that he can catalogue the way Magnus is talking about love with a newfound conviction, looking at the same girl over and over again when he used to flit around, helpless within the wandering of his eye.

Jonas is still talking about capitalism, but he’s doing it from a platform, posting in discussion forums and gaining new friends by the minute. Isak wonders when that happened, when he got pushed back from being the default listener to Jonas’ thoughts.

Mahdi is a safe haven, steady in his talk about football, about beer and how next season is the one for Fulham. Isak leans on him, maybe a little too much. Mahdi doesn’t say anything about it, just comes over a bit more frequently, texts Isak a little bit more.

Once again, Isak doesn’t know how to give thanks without exposing himself. He gives Mahdi another hug as he leaves, searches through his box of clothes in the back of his closet to dig up an old scarf that he knows Mahdi used to comment favourably on every time Isak wore it and hands it over after school, escapes before Mahdi can open the plastic bag and find it inside.

Everything is moving so fast, it feels like the only option he has sometimes is to run from it.

 

-

 

Isak doesn’t dare ask, but Sana brings up their discussion again a few weeks later. 

“I tried talking to her,” she says, in the middle of a study session turned hangout.

“Oh,” Isak says. It doesn’t bode well.

“Didn’t work,” Sana shrugs, unable to get rid of the mountain perched on top of her shoulders. Isak can see the outline of it from across the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “That sucks.”

She looks up at him. “Yeah,” she says. “It does.”

“But…” He licks his lips, searching for the right words. He doesn’t find them, which is hardly a surprise. He almost never does. “At least now she knows. That you know. Kinda.”

It’s the best he can do. Miraculously, Sana seems to accept it. Isak lets out a breath held rigid for a month too long.

“That’s something,” she nods before sinking back further into the pillows. She turns to look at him, properly look at him, a concept Isak only allowed a few months back. “What’s going on with you?” she says, her voice gentle in a way that makes him self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he says, an automated defence.

She waits him out.

He gives in.

“I’m just a bit… down about. Liking someone. A bit.” His tongue feels too big for his words, pushing them out in staccato sentences. “It’s stupid.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asks. Her hijab catches the last rays of the sun, making a pattern appear in it that wasn’t there a moment ago and will soon be gone again.

“Yes.” He is sure.

“Did you tell them?”

“They told me. About someone else.” He taps his foot a little. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” The way she says it can be nothing but the truth, her voice is too level for anything else.

To his utter horror, Isak can feel a slight tremor going through his hands. He has to stop it before it reaches his heart, killing it with clenched fists. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She lets him disappear back into safety, pulling her phone out to check if there’s anything good on TV. There’s not.

They watch together for two hours anyway.

Before he leaves, Isak hugs her before pulling back and saying what he promised himself he would keep quiet, if only to save himself hearing heartbreak spoken in his own voice. 

“It’s Even. And it’s not going to happen.”

She doesn’t say anything, which Isak supposes is a confirmation in and of itself.

The walk home is longer than usual.

 

-

 

Even makes a joke about feeling like Isak’s parent. Isak smiles through it. It’s not like he didn’t know he’s not anywhere near being a contender for romantic emotions in Even’s mind. 

It’s no big deal, really. He can manage the unsteady beating of his heart. He can silence the hum of contentment every time he manages to touch Even in passing, every time he’s sneaked a look of Even that’s been just on the wrong side of casual.

He can’t stop it, but he can control it. It’s not like it hurts, anyway. It’s fine.

It's nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tumblr post for this tiny chapter can be found [right here](http://icelandcurry.tumblr.com/post/164457462317/snapshots-of-a-scattered-heart-chapter-one-not-a)


	2. a touch not wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak has fallen, is falling, does fall.

Even is manic and Isak is trying to do the right things, the recommended things, the things to make sure no one is hurt. He’s careful not to overdo it, to make Even think of him as an inconvenience, overbearing. 

Annoying.

Isak turns off the stove Even left on after making cinnamon buns, scrapes the burnt bits off of the pastries and puts them in an old ice-cream box. They smell really nice, just like the buns his mum used to make when Isak was a kid. He hopes Even will let him have one later. 

He does a little nervous cleaning as he listens to the sound of Even humming, slightly off-key, while working on a secret experiment in his room. He’s asked not to be disturbed and Isak manages to hold his promise to let Even be until a few hours after midnight, the street lamps casting shadows in Even’s room, somewhat hiding the mess made by a hyper-focused mind.

He’s a little surprised that Even lets him through the door.

 

 

Isak picks off the metal pieces stuck to the soles of Even’s feet, a gesture filling him with a fierce protectiveness he no longer thought he had. They take a walk, because it’s something that Magnus has mentioned in passing, going on long walks with his mother in the middle of an episode, just being a quiet presence beside her. It’s a little pathetic how that sounds like an idealized version of Isak's life when it comes to Even, to be allowed walking next to him, always, not needing any kind of interaction to keep Isak there.

As they get on their way, Isak realizes that he doesn’t need to speak as Even is full of words and his hands are full of light touches. It’s absent and unusual, the way Even throws an arm over Isak’s shoulders, catches his elbow in an eager grip to drag Isak to a shop window, brushing Isak’s hair out of his eyes before bounding away again, always ten steps ahead of Isak in the dark night.

Isak doesn’t like that Even is manic, but he doesn’t mind the touches it brings. The thought shames him, makes him pull away a little.

 

It turns out that he didn’t pull away far enough and, for the briefest of seconds, Isak almost laughs. He’s standing in the middle of Oslo on a slightly unfamiliar street, and he was just offered everything he's been longing for in an embrace that wasn't meant for him. Isak can feel burn marks on his jaw and his collarbone, his neck turning a blazing red, marking the spots where Even placed kisses for someone else. 

For that split second, it’s funny, the irony of it all. The stupidity of Isak's emotions. It’s not so funny when Isak comes back to himself just in time to see Even cross the street without even the slightest of precaution, barely even noticing the cars that still rush by, despite the late hour.

Isak does what he’s been doing pretty much since the moment Even moved in. He runs after him.

Unusual, how he’s able to catch up without trouble. Even more unusual how Even grabs his hand, squeezing it in an absent manner that so very clearly spells out Even’s fondness for intimacy and his longing for having it with a person not present. Isak feels like a child holding onto a parent who decided not to fight for him in the divorce, a feeling he thought he was over and done with.

Apparently, it’s a night for revelations of the worst kind, mixed with stabbings from a knife built out of nostalgia.

They walk back to the flat. It’s never felt less like home.

 

 

The night before is a blur when Isak wakes up. There are smudges of dark under Even’s eyes as he turns to look at Isak. The kitchen is full of food and Isak is full of shame. 

“Good morning! Are you hungry? I made food for us,” Even says. His words are a little faster than usual, impatience coating his words.

He looks so soft as he stands in the early morning light, surrounded by droves of pancakes, eggs and sandwiches. It’s hard to believe this is the same person who disassembled Isak’s heart just a few hours ago.

He supposes he deserves it, after what he did to Jonas, to Fredrik. He should have known better than to think he could get away with it.

“I am, yeah,” Isak says, gingerly sitting down at the table. Even turns back to the stove and for a brief second, Isak wants to walk up to him and take the spatula out of his hand, move Even away from the hot stove.

He shoves the thought away. Even’s not a child and Isak is not his keeper. If Even were to see Isak act like that, he’d be mortified and there is little else Isak wants less than to embarrass Even. As long as there’s no actual danger, he’ll stay in the background as a supportive role to the masterpiece Even’s brain is currently painting.

Never mind his failure the night before, today Isak is going to get it right. He’s going to intervene before any more roads are callously crossed, figurative or not.

“You’re good at that,” Isak says, a beat too late. He is sincere though, which Even picks up on judging by his smile. Isak has to close his eyes to keep from being blinded.

He’s pretty sure there’s no heartbeat left in his chest. It’s alright though, it’ll come back. It’s never failed to before.

 

Mikael is at the door and the roped off area of jealousy in Isak’s brain is re-opening. The problem is that, despite all of Isak’s selfish judgements, Mikael is a nice person, so caring, so warm and so utterly worthy of being with someone like Even. They’ve only talked a few times but every time, there’s been genuine joy and affection in Mikael’s words and expression and Isak can’t fault Even for being drawn to a person like that.

The notion that Isak ever thought he could replace Mikael in Even’s mind is ridiculous in the harsh light of the morning.

He can hear Even and Mikael greet each other in the hallway, trying to busy his hands with reaching for another pancake, covering it with whipped cream and a jam from a jar he’s pretty sure Even’s mum has brought over at some point.

The food is delicious, just like everything Even’s cooked since he moved in but, as Mikael and Even comes into the room hand in hand, swallowing becomes a whole lot harder.

He says hello to Mikael, because it’s the polite thing to do. There’s a silent understanding travelling between them as Even mentions making more food, the tension not tangible but still not relaxed.

He pulls Even aside because it’s the right thing to do, managing to distract Even out of future heartbreak. Isak stays in his room for the rest of the day, staring at nothing at all and hoping for an easier tomorrow.

 

-

 

Seeing Even unwilling to communicate, eat or do anything other than pull sleep over his head like a particularly protective blanket is slowly tearing Isak apart. He does his best to keep his head overwater and stay calm when all he wants to do is to take over for Even, to pull out the sadness from inside Even's chest and put it in his own.

He can’t, and the helplessness in the reality of it is eating him alive.

 

He finds himself going through the cupboards in the kitchen, knowing that there is no solution or magic potion hidden in there that would help, but unable to still his thoughts from hoping there is until he’s properly looked.

He ends up with a box of tea in one hand and his phone in the other. He’s immensely grateful that it’s not that awkward of a call to make, that him and Sana are now somewhere on the edge of a proper friendship, at the point of understanding each other enough to know when it’s time for teasing and when it’s not. It also helps that he won't have to explain anything to her. 

“Hi,” he says as she picks up. “Sorry, are you busy?”

“I’ve got a few minutes before I have to go to practice,” Sana says.

“Right, okay. Well, um, I thought I’d make Even some tea but I’m not sure how he likes it. Do you think Elias maybe knows?” Isak turns the box over, eyeing the instructions but still feeling quite certain that the way it’s described is not the way Even usually makes it.

“I can check,” she says, a shuffling noise on her end. “How is he?”

“I don’t know,” Isak says, horrified when his voice almost breaks. He clears his throat. “Probably not in the mood for tea,” he says, a weak joke without a punch line.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.” There’s the sound of sharp knocks on a door before Elias’ voice comes through. “Can I come in?” Sana asks.

Isak bites his lip as he listens to a brief discussion on the other line. There’s a bit of back and forth before the line goes silent, muffled. He’s almost convinced the call’s been dropped before Sana suddenly comes back in full force.

“Can you talk to Elias?” she asks. “Apparently, it’s a whole thing.”

“Ehm, sure.” Isak has never had a conversation with Elias sober, but that seems irrelevant at the moment. He’s already had a few encounters with Mikael during the time Even’s been down, surely this can be no worse.

“Hey,” Elias says. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” Isak says, fidgeting a little. “I just thought I’d take Even some tea but I don’t know how to make it. Does he take sugar, or…”

“We’ll get to that,” Elias says, the impatience in his voice making Isak shrink a little, an automatic response. “We’re talking about you now.”

“Okay?” Isak says, can’t help but make it a question.

“It can be a lot,” Elias says, his voice softer. There’s the sound of a door closing at his end, the background noise disappearing. “We were all in it together when it first happened, but I don’t know if you’ve had your friends round.”

“Not really,” Isak says. “I didn’t want there to be a lot of people here, you know.”

“Yeah,” Elias says. “His mum and dad were pretty freaked about that too but we managed to persuade them to let us in. Well, we sent in Mikael first and then the rest of us followed. He’s good at charming parents.”

There’s a newfound lump in Isak’s throat, adding to all the others. It’s a small miracle he can still breathe through them.

“Oh. Yeah, he’s great,” Isak says. It’s true, but the words still sting a little. 

It must be nice to be everyone’s favourite. It must be nice to be _someone's_ favourite. Isak can't imagine.

Elias stays quiet for a moment.

“You know that Even loves living with you guys, right?” Elias clears his throat, “He’s always raving about you and Linn.”

A small shiver of genuine happiness makes a home in Isak’s chest.“Really?” The word slips out before he can help it, exposing him. 

“Yeah. I think he was kinda nervous about moving out, but he’s been really happy about it.”

Isak can’t help but think the only reason Elias thinks that is that he probably doesn’t know the whole story, unaware of how Even’s been hurting lately, how desperate he’s gotten in expressing his feelings for Mikael. How Isak failed him when asked to help, allowed Even to go too far before shoving him away with too much force and too little empathy.

How Isak could feel it break them both, even though Even probably isn’t become aware of it yet. Isak will carry the feeling for both of them until he does.

“I’m glad,” Isak says eventually, knowing he waited too long to respond, his silence a revelation in itself. “I… me and Linn are glad he moved in. He’s just, like… good.”

“He is,” Elias says. “Even though he takes his tea with no sugar and no milk, which is just plain wrong.”

“That’s the order then?” Isak asks, grateful to be back on somewhat stabile ground.

“That’s it. Oh, and don’t let it steep for too long, a minute or two should do it.”

Isak frowns. “The box says five.”

“The box is wrong,” Elias says promptly. “And don’t let Sana tell you otherwise.”

Isak huffs out a laugh, the sound of it surprising himself. “Alright.”

“I’ll send you my number,” Elias says. “So you can call me if there’s something else, if you want us to come over or something. We usually just pop in, but I don’t want to be rude to you guys.”

“You can come by whenever,” Isak says. “We don’t mind.”

“Cool,” Elias says. “I’ll give you back to sis now.”

“Thanks for the help,” Isak says, but he can already hear Elias shout for Sana to come and pick up her phone, having to pull it away from his ear.

 

A couple of minutes after they’ve hung up, Isak gets a text. 

_stole your # off of Sana, adding you to a new group_

Along with it is a screenshot of a list of contacts, complete with names to the numbers. Isak saves them all to his phone before opening the new group. It only takes a few seconds for the messages to start dropping in.

The name of the group seems to be  _Even’s angels_.

_like charlies angels??_ Mutta writes. _that’s awesome_

_even is gonna be rly geeked out about this_ Adam says.

_DIBS FOR TELLING HIM_

_diBS FOR TELLING_

_Dibs!!!_

Elias puts a swift end to the disagreement. _I already texted him._

Mutta is the first to reply. _rude. what’s up with the new group anyway? we have a million already._

_Isak is in this one_

Within milliseconds, dozens of greetings fill the screen. Isak can’t help but smile a little.

_Hi!_

He wants to go straight into it and tell them what he told Elias, that they’re welcome anytime but he doesn’t want to sound desperate, so he keeps his fingers still.

Elias takes on the responsibility after a few seconds. Isak has a feeling it's not an unusual occurence.

_So I’ve gotten the thumbs up from Isak that we can come over to hang out with Even,_ he writes. _just drop a line here before so everyone will know who’s there so there won’t be too many ppl at once for him_

_can I go first please? I miss him._

_Alright, so Mutta’s first. Is that okay, isak?_

Isak types as quickly as he can. _Yeah, of course, just buzz when you get here and I’ll let you in._

_thank you!!!_

A small weight lifts off Isak’s shoulder as he watches all of them make plans for visiting the next few days. He was starting to feel a little intrusive, sitting at the floor next to Even’s bed all day, not wanting him to be alone. Sometimes he’d get a little too brave and lean in to brush Even’s hair out of his eyes but he knows he probably shouldn’t, knows that particular privilege belongs to someone else, someone who is currently planning to come over at least once a day for the rest of the week. 

He’ll take a step to the side and let the guys take over. It’s fine.

 

-

 

Isak goes in to check on Even late in the afternoon, finding him still fast asleep. Isak pulls the duvet a little tighter around him, checking so that Even's feet aren’t poking out at the bottom.

Even moves a little, turning over. Isak quickly gets up to sneak out of the room.

He can’t stand the thought of Even waking up and looking at him only to see a substitute.

 

-

 

Despite the fact that it feels a lot like betrayal, Isak tells Magnus what’s going on, bribes him with a homemade lunch in exchange for advice away from everyone else. It’s cold, autumn giving place for winter, but Magnus sits down with him on a bench outside in the school yard without complaint, holding his hand out for a fork and digs in.

He spends the next minutes giving advice through mouthfuls of food. “Make sure he has a glass of water or something by the bed, and don’t just skulk around there, talk to him.”

Isak nods. He wonders if he should write it down, but he decides not to. The words will be seared into his memory anyway, no need for paper.

“Anything else?” He asks.

Magnus looks completely calm as he picks his lasagne apart, eating all the cheese before starting in on the meat. It’s one of Even’s creations, put in the freezer a while ago.

Isak doesn’t know if it was to eat on a day like this, but he doesn’t regret taking it out and re-heating it. The taste and smell is comforting, he can almost hear Even walk him through the cooking process, allowing Isak to ask about every single step without losing his patience. Sometimes, Isak would like Even to lose his cool, just once, so that Isak can see him angry.

He prefers to know what it looks like before it happens, catalogues the way his friends frown and clench their jaws and fists, the way they snap and snarl out a reply when they’re at their final tether. It’s almost calming, knowing what kind of fury there is to be had. That way, he can be prepared.

Even hasn’t gotten properly mad at him yet. There was one time, one of the first days they spent watching TV together, when Isak spilled some milk on Even’ shirt. It was only for a moment, but the annoyance was clear in Even’s words and eyes, making all of Isak’s blood halt, then rush to his ears until he couldn’t hear what Even was saying anymore, just watch as Even walked out of the room, his steps a little quicker than usual.

Isak had to spend a few minutes on the bathroom floor after that, counting his breaths like he read in a book once. It helps a little, making him feel somewhat in control, which is all he can ask for.

He startles a little when Magnus puts his hand on his shoulder. “It’s no biggie, Isak, really. Just hang out with him when you can and leave him alone if he asks for it. His friends have been over, right?”

“Yeah.” They’ve been round in shifts, intersecting with each other a little, spending time in Even’s room when it’s been allowed and the kitchen when it’s hasn’t.

Not once have they grown impatient with Even. Not once have they left in a huff.

Isak wants to be them. Isak wants to be friends with them.

“That’s good,” Magnus says, scooping up a tomato. “Nice to see familiar faces and all.”

There’s fifteen minutes left of the lunch break. Isak hasn’t started eating yet.

“It’s not gonna be too much though? With everyone around, me and Linn and the guys?”

Magnus shrugs. “Ask him.”

“He’s not… talking much.” Isak bites his lip, wonders if it’s okay for him to tell anyone about this. If there are rules about it, ones that he should know already but haven’t thought to ask Even about.

A tiny, miniscule part of his brain whispers that Even’s not going to know anyway. That there’s not going to be any conversations when Even gets back up, because Isak let him down when Even really needed him and that’s not the sort of thing that can be forgiven.

It shouldn’t be.

“That’s alright,” Magnus says. “It takes a lot of energy, talking. If he’s really against it, he’ll show you in some way. One time, my mum blew a raspberry at me when I asked if I should call her therapist. First and last thing she did that day, completely exhausted her.” He winks at Isak, waving his dirty fork around. “But she did get the message through.”

Isak smiles a little at that. “We should hang out at your house more, your mum is awesome.”

“We should hang out more, period,” Magnus says. There’s no judgement in his voice, but Isak can hear it anyway. 

“Sorry. I’ve been… there’s been a lot of shit.”

“It’s cool, no worries. We need to go out soon though, it’s been ages.”

Isak squirms a little, the cold wind easily getting in underneath his light jacket. Even hasn’t been nagging him to dress warmer lately, so he’s been constantly chilly for about a week now.

It shouldn’t be up to someone else to remind him, Isak knows that. It’s just nice when someone does.

“I don’t want to leave Even alone,” he says.

Magnus looks at him for a full minute, tracing every nervous tap of Isak’s knee, the dark rings under his eyes, his food still untouched. Isak clears his throat awkwardly.

Magnus looks away, goes back to his food. “Oh.”

“Don’t,” Isak says, the word coming out desperate enough to be a confirmation.

“I won’t.” Magnus gives him a small smile. “If you want to, like, get some space when he's better, you can come to mine.”

Isak breathes out slowly. “Thanks.”

Magnus bumps their shoulders. He sneaks a look at Isak’s food. “So, are you gonna eat that, or…?”

“Piss off, you have your own,” Isak says, laughing a little as he bats Magnus’ hand away.

“Um, correction, I had my own but now it’s gone,” Magnus says. He gives in too easy to really mean it, scraping the last out of his own container instead.

By the time they walk back into the school, Isak’s eaten every last bite. Judging by the smug look on Magnus’ face, that’s not a coincidence.

 

-

 

Slowly, Even gets life back in his eyes and things return to a stale sense of sub-normalcy. Isak doesn’t want to pull away, his body protesting every centimetre put between him and Even, but he needs to have some sense of self-preservation. At least that’s what Eskild says.

In the end, there had to be someone to share the mess he created with, and Eskild seemed like the most non-judgemental choice. He’d sat on Isak’s unmade bed for hours, letting Isak ramble on about things he probably couldn’t care less about, hearing a laundry list of things Isak’s done wrong, catching feelings for Even the first and biggest of them.

Weirdly enough, Eskild didn’t seem to mind. At one point, he tried to convince Isak to have a proper conversation with Even about what happened but Isak managed to steer him away from that particular nugget of disaster. He can’t handle Even being careful with him, looking at him with the particular kind of pity given to a kid with an unfortunate crush, an infatuation that, out in the open, would be doing nothing but halt and harm a fully functional friendship.

It’s not that Isak disapproves of people talking about their feelings, that’s great and Isak is happy for them and their ability to do so without shame, but he can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of going through that himself.

There was a point when Even tried to have a conversation about his manic episode, but Isak shut it down as quickly as he could and got out of the situation before it could really fester. The instinct of flight has always been a signature trait of his.

It’ll blow over. Someday, he’ll look at Even without pain, without anything breaking inside. He’s going to look at Even and feel nothing.

He can’t wait for it but, until that moment comes, he’s determined to keep his eyes to himself.

 

-

 

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, yeah. Just stressed, you know,” Isak smiles.

Jonas doesn’t buy it, but then again, he never does. He still nods, because that’s who he is.

Isak doesn’t know why he keeps hiding from Jonas when there’s no need to and usually, he does his best to fight the instinct. This time is different though, because Isak was so clearly in the wrong during Even’s episode, and the inevitable loss of Jonas’ respect upon hearing about it is a whole lot more to take on than a few days of worried looks.

So Isak smiles, and Isak changes the subject. Isak moves on and moves on and moves on, pretending not to be stuck.

 

They go to Jonas’ to do homework, picking up pizza on the way. Isak hasn’t been home on a weekday afternoon in almost a month.

 

-

 

Linn texts, asking him to  _please buy coffee and toilet paper_ and Isak can’t say no. He picks up the cheapest brands of both, pays with coins and avoids the pitiful look from the cashier.

His dad has promised more money soon, Isak can manage until then.

He’s ashamed to admit that he was doing better when he was allowing himself to eat Even’s cooking, their dinner cost cut in three. It’s not going to be long until Even will probably want to move out anyway, it would be stupid to get back into the habit of regularly sharing meals again at this point.

 

-

 

It all comes to a head when Isak catches sight of Even in the kitchen while trying to sneak out the door unnoticed. He has a brief second of hesitation before giving in to the wave of exhaustion rolling over him.

It’s too much, this constant avoidance of Even. It’s definitely too much when he’s right there, looking so comfortable and so sure of himself and so alive. The latest bout of insomnia Isak's had has just been an add-on, a continuous poking of the bruise, it’s the constant ache of missing Even that’s been the main source of misery. Isak’s not even trying to fall asleep at night anymore, he’s just trying to be quiet enough to hear Even breath through the wall.

He ends up spilling all about his stupid insecurities before he can stop himself, embarrassing himself with excuses that don’t cover nearly enough of what he should be sorry for. Is sorry for.

“You took care of me,” Even says in response to it all.

It’s not true, but Isak will keep the words anyway, hoard them selfishly to his chest. When he digs up enough courage to stand next to Even, almost touching him through layers and layers of clothes, his hands shake so bad he has to hide them in his pockets.

Even's movements are calm as he stirs the stew, putting a bit of extra salt in. He smells the same as he did in the middle of the night while tearing Isak’s stupid beacon of hope to shreds.

Isak wonders if he still kisses the same.

 

-

 

_Is it going alright now?_ Eskild asks a couple of days later, his message suspiciously void of emojis. A serious question, then.

_yeah._ Isak replies, the answer ringing true for once, and then follows it up with _how are you?_

It's one of his promises to himself, to ask that question more often to the people that matter. Sana was a little shocked the first time, a few days ago in the middle of the cafeteria. She looked at him for a full ten seconds before a smile took over her entire face and she ducked her head, a little embarrassed. 

Since then, they ask each other every day.

_I’m good! Just came home, had a great night hehe_

Isak leans back against his pillow, settles in for the long haul. It usually takes the better part of an hour for Eskild to get through a re-telling of a particularly wild night. Isak likes it when he does.

 

-

 

It’s quite typical, the way Even seems to pull away just when Isak is ready to reconnect. They have a few stumbling days, flittering between polite nods in the morning and drawn-out cooking sessions at night, but eventually, Isak feels on somewhat steady ground again, once again back in the familiar pace of living his life with his feelings under lid. 

Sometimes, the full force of how much he likes Even hits him and he has to mentally stagger back to keep it in bay, reign it in best he can. He just _wants_ , is the thing. He wants and he wants and he wants and nothing comes from it. Isak can handle the rejection in small doses, plucks out the memory of Even pulling him closer only to crush him, stripping it down and examining it. He can still point out all the places Even's lips touched him. He can still feel the burn of them.

Even asks if they can have a pre-game together, just the two of them. Isak says yes, because any other answer is unthinkable.

The self-preservation Eskild was talking about is nowhere to be seen. Isak can't find it in him to care. 

 

-

 

They're the only ones in the flat on the night of the pre-game, sharing several bottles of beer, taking turns in taking sips. Isak doesn’t know why Even doesn’t just grab one for himself, but he doesn’t really mind, imagines Even’s mouth leaving kisses at the rim for Isak’s to catch.

He wonders, sometimes, what it would be like to be with Even. How it would look. How it would feel. He never lets himself think about it for long, doesn’t trust himself to connect back to reality in time to hide. He still wonders, though. 

He knows what it's like to be wanted but has no experience in being wanted from someone he loves. Fredrik wasn't that, was a nice connection but nothing more. Jonas was something else. Even is something else. 

Isak is still the same. 

They keep drinking from the same beer and Isak has to stop himself from pulling it away from Even as he takes a sip, fighting the urge to replace the bottle with his lips.

 

They listen to music. Isak nods along to the beat, allows it to fill him up, soothe some of the tired thoughts from long days of self-restraint. Even is warm next to him, their legs tangling together in a mess of faded denim and pointed knees.

Isak’s buzzed enough to let himself sink into it, a privilege he usually saves for staged Sunday mornings. It's always done with a breath half-held in fear at being caught out, moving closer half-way through the first hour of the show, putting his nose in the slight dip at the back of Even’s neck, a spot Isak would like to make his own. He lives for the forty-five minutes of closeness he can snatch once a week, always under the disguise of faking sleep.

Stupid.

He comes back to present time to take a sip of his, their, beer. Emptying it before opening another one, handing it over to Even.

Opens one for himself, swallows down a mouthful. It doesn’t taste nearly as good.

 

Fredrik is at the party. Isak’s never been good at being alone.

The aftermath is hazy, a collision of memory and new impressions mixing together in his drunken mind. Fredrik’s lips are the same, his hands and tongue and arms are the same but somehow, they no longer fit on Isak’s body and mouth.

There is no trail of warmth as they move across his chest and legs, roam over his back and shoulders. Instead, they turn his body into a crime scene, small bruises marking the spots.

This is where a kiss landed from the wrong mouth, this is where the wrong hand gave a caress, this is where the wrong legs interlocked with his. This is where the right words were pressed into his skin by the wrong voice. This is where he gave in, gave up and lost. As the night comes to an end, he can feel the evidence of failure in pressure points all over his skin.

 

The next morning, Isak has to borrow one of Fredrik’s shirts for the bus ride home and spends the whole ride trying to get away from the smell of it. Even is in the kitchen when Isak comes home but disappears out soon enough, a mumbled explanation the only clue given to where he’s going. Isak misses him as soon as the door shuts behind him, a deep ache made worse by the lingering feeling of Fredrik's touch.

He sits down in front of the television for an hour without turning it on. He can see his reflection in the screen, looking weak, stupid and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, hello, so this is very late and i'm sorry. i'd planned to post once a week, but that flew out the window when uni came back in full force. thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos, they're a tremendous help in finding inspiration.
> 
> as always, i'm [right here on tumblr](http://icelandcurry.tumblr.com) and there is also a [post for this chapter](http://icelandcurry.tumblr.com/post/164860382057/snapshots-of-a-scattered-heart-chapter-2-a-touch)


	3. the suspense of disbelief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pre-game and a post-break up.

 

There's a conversation being had over breakfast, Isak having to bite his tongue all the way through it, making a point of mentioning Fredrik just to make Even stop watching at him so closely.

He’s pretty sure Even knows that Isak is in love with him. There’s something wary in the way Even looks at him now, as if not wanting to break him. Isak wants to come out and say it, wants to come clean about his feelings and downplay the importance of them at the same time. All he wants is to be treated like a friend, because he knows how much Even treasures them.

He doesn’t want to be an anomaly. He doesn’t want to be an outsider because of feelings he can’t control, feelings he would rather not have in the first place. It’s not fair.

In the end though, Isak doesn’t say anything. He has no idea how he would even start, it’s been so long now that the thought of putting it into words makes his skin itch, makes him retract just a little, if only for a minute or two. He can’t help but move closer again, Even’s presence too valuable for Isak to miss out on.

He just wishes Even would stop being so careful.

 

To get away from the thick layer of tension that seems to have seeped into the very walls of the flat, Isak goes to the library to continue working on a project he’s not supposed to hand in until two weeks from now.

He manages to get through most of the assigned reading before leaning back and taking a look around. He's in the library he usually goes to, a little smaller than most but also way more quiet. He knows where all the different sections are, can find any book within minutes. He likes the routine of continuously returning, likes to say hello to the librarians and have them give him a familiar smile in return.

Isak chooses to abandon his work for the moment and heads for the science section. He traces a finger across the spines of the chemistry books, follow them along until he reaches the physics ones. Pulling one out at random, he flicks through it until a particular image catches his eye.

It’s the same one that’s in the book Even’s dad borrowed him, but with different captions, giving it a completely different meaning. His heart rate rises slightly as he reads it over, itching to share the find with someone, hastily returning to his seat with the book in hand.

He’s got his phone in his hand before he knows it, but pauses after unlocking it. He doesn’t know who to tell.

Jonas would respond with just a thumbs up, having long ago run out of energy to try and be into science just because Isak likes it. Magnus wouldn’t care, Mahdi would be nice about it but not have a real interest.

Even is out of the question. Sana is a maybe but then again, she has forbidden him to talk about metaphysics in her presence ever again, so maybe not.

He opens the book again, reads the accompanying text explaining the new theory depicted on old material. As he looks down to flip through his contacts, he briefly stops on Even’s dad’s number. He’d probably like it. This book is new, so new that the findings may be news to him.

After a few seconds of staring at it, Isak puts his phone away. He can’t go calling people he barely knows over something that don’t really matter. He’ll just read it himself, that’ll be more than enough.

It would still be nice to share it. To have someone listen with interest, if only just this once.

 

Without really thinking about it, Isak chooses the grocery store farthest from the library to do his shopping in. He doesn’t even know why until he reaches the juice shelf and grabs one for Even out of habit. It’s the expensive one, but with a few tweaks to his list, he should be able to make it work.

Even is still recovering a little from his episode. That’s a good enough reason to spend slightly more than he can afford.

He goes back to the dairy section to lose the cheese he picked out. He’ll be fine with just butter on his sandwiches, it’s only for breakfast anyway.

 

Even is cooking when Isak gets back. Sometimes it still hits him that he actually lives with Even, is allowed to see him more than most others do. He always looks confident in the kitchen, keeping on top of the situation with ease. 

Isak loves to watch him, but he can't allow himself more than a few seconds at a time. Wants to prove that he can restrain himself, that Even doesn't have to worry about Isak not knowing the limitations of their friendship. Isak does, can practically see the line he can't cross draw around Even, a halo of unattainability. 

 

Fredrik texts him during dinner. It’s nothing more than a generic message to catch up but it’s enough to confirm that he’s not angry at Isak for staying over after the party. It’s a relief that brings a smile to his face, holding on to it enough for Even to catch it as Isak looks back up.

Even doesn’t smile back, an unusual occurrence despite their various ups and downs.

Isak drops head back down and shoves more food in his mouth to prevent any stupid questions from spilling out. He’s not going to want the answers anyway.

 

-

 

Isak goes to school, talks to the guys, talks to Sana, goes home. He’s eternally grateful for his friends but on days like this, he’s kind of missing the time when he spent his school days either alone or quietly trailing Jonas.

Thinking back on that time always brings an annoying sort of glorifying sentimentality with it, enhanced by him getting a wave from Eva as she walks by on her way home. He nods to Noora who’s walking beside her and gets a smile in return.

He should know them both better by now but he doesn’t as he usually melts into the background when the extended group is gathered. He likes it that way, finds it easier to read people from a distance but at the same time, he’s sure he could have nice friendships with the girls if he just tried.

He just doesn’t have the energy for it right now and, as cliché as it sounds, he can’t focus on anything but Even anyway.

 

As he walks up the final stairs to the flat, Isak runs into Mikael, carrying a dented box of Scrabble under his arm and a bright smile on his face. Isak feels a little like throwing up and a lot like running away.

“Hi!” Mikael says. He looks like he’s about to go in for a hug, but Isak automatically recoils a little, making Mikael settle for a fist bump instead.

“Hi. Going home?”

“Yeah, I just beat Even three times in a row, so I figured I should get out before he catches his stride,” Mikael grins. There’s enough fondness in his tone to make Isak’s throat clog up.

It’s probably only a matter of time before Mikael comes to the realization Even’s been longing for.

“Oh? That’s a nice confidence boost,” Isak says, making himself press the words out. He’s going to have to get used to Mikael being around more. Maybe, one day, it won’t even hurt.

“I know, right? Hey, we’re going out on Saturday, do you wanna come?” Mikael asks, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “We haven’t really seen you since Even’s gotten better, Mutta was complaining how he didn’t finish a tournament with you or something.”

He scrolls through his phone, tongue poking out as he reads through the messages. The light from the stairwell window hits his hair perfectly, making it glow slightly. Even the sun seems to love him.

“Here it is, it was about Fifa. Apparently, you owe him one?” Mikael turns the screen to show Isak the texts.

They’re from their shared group chat, so Isak’s read them before. He didn’t know Mutta was serious, though.

“Oh, um, I thought he was joking.”

“He never jokes about Fifa,” Mikael says. “You should have him over for a re-match pretty soon, otherwise he’ll never stop nagging you about it.”

Isak buys some time readjusting his snap back, unsure as to how to navigate the situation. He feels a little awkward bringing this up with Even, the two of them being on unstable ground still now, days after the party, but he also doesn’t want to be rude. “Yeah, alright. I’ll… check with Even when he’s free.”

“Wha- no, it’s you Mutta is having the re-match with.”

“Yeah, but he’s Even’s friend,” Isak says, furrowing his brow in confusion.

Mikael looks at him for a few seconds. There’s something in his gaze Isak doesn’t recognize, but it’s gone before he can place it. “Right. Okay.” Mikael puts his phone back, gives Isak another smile. “I should get going but I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Isak says, standing still until he hears the front door open and close. The sound echoes through the house, bouncing back and forth until it’s been ten minutes and Isak still hasn’t moved.

 

-

 

It’s been decided that it's Isak's turn to be in charge of the upcoming pre-game before their once-a-month outing with the girls and the guys of their extended friend group. They’ve been alternating hosting duties since they first started the tradition, back when Vilde and Magnus first got together, and there is no way Isak can get out of it without disappointing his friends, so he keeps his protests to himself and organizes for Linn to buy beer and for Mahdi to send over his latest playlists.

Even has been hinting that they should do a combined pre-game, since him and his friends also are going out, and Isak hasn't yet found a way to get out of it. It’s bad enough to have his brain re-play every instance he’s seen Even and Mikael together every time he tries to go to sleep, if he has to see new content with alcohol in his veins, it might be too much to handle.

He doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

 

It’s been a few fretful nights of trying to come up with a good excuse that doesn’t reek of pettiness when suddenly, the problem works itself out in a suspiciously easy manner.

“Yousef wanted to host,” Even says over breakfast. “He’s got some new… stuff in his house that he wants to show off. Music stuff.” 

There is a lie in there somewhere, but Isak is too grateful to look for it. “Oh. That’s too bad.”

Even gives him a three-second smile. Isak hates himself for counting.

“Yeah. You can have the place for yourself, invite whomever you’d like.”

“I’d do that anyway,” Isak says, frowns a little at the implication that he wouldn't.

Even nods, not taking his eyes of his phone. “Right, right. Yeah. I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t. Just some extra freedom, I guess. To have someone over.”

Isak doesn’t know why the tension is suddenly spiked, but he’s tired, so tired of trying to find out. Instead, he does his best to ignore it all together and searches for a neutral topic that might make Even want to talk to him for longer than a minute at a time.

“Did… did you see the new Planet Earth season yet?” He’s grasping at straws, can feel a treacherous blush climb up to his cheeks at the desperation evident in his voice.

“No,” Even says. He puts his phone away. Looks up. “Is it good?”

“Yeah.”

Even smiles. Five seconds.

Isak’s blush spreads; he has to busy himself with getting another coffee to get it to disappear. He leans against the sink just as Even walks up to rinse his plate.

“What was it about?” Even asks, calmly reaching behind Isak to grab a sponge.

Isak can feel the heat from Even’s body against his own. He has to fight not to shiver. “Hm?”

“Planet Earth. What was the new season about?” Even is focused on the task at hand. Isak is focused on Even.

In another realm, maybe it’s the other way around but right now, that feels too improbable to be true, despite the fact that the universe is endless and holds a multitude of realities.

Isak still doesn’t think there’s one where he could not have Even as the centre of his.

“Animals,” he says, a beat too late. “It’s about… lots of animals.”

Even laughs a little, and Isak gulps down the rest of his coffee, suddenly unable to stand being in the room for a second longer. It’s not even self-preservation at this point, it’s just about getting through the day without feeling like his every move is a failure.

He walks out of the room without saying anything else. Even probably finds it rude and childish. Isak can’t blame him.

 

-

 

The pre-game starts off well enough, but there’s something crawling under Isak’s skin that makes him drink a little more than he ought to, just to avoid checking his phone excessively, scrolling Instagram for evidence of a relationship he suspects are only weeks away from coming to be. 

He knows Mikael is straight, or rather, he knows that’s what Even knows. Isak also knows that sexuality is fluid and that Even is the sun. Everyone will gravitate towards him eventually.

 

An hour later, Isak gets a message from Elias.

_We’re at that club we talked about in the group chat, i_ _n case you wanna join_

Isak’s brain is just intoxicated enough to make his eyes tear up a little in gratitude for the invitation as he reads it. With fumbly fingers, he writes back.

_thank you for invite, but am going to house party but thank you_

He sends it before he realizes he over-thanked Elias and comes off looking like an idiot.

_Haha no sweat, just come down if you feel like ditching the party_

Isak doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he doesn’t.

It’s nice to know where Even is, though. If something should happen. It’s nice to know.

 

Isak’s night ends just like he suspected it would, with everyone going to the party except for him and Linn. They clean up in silence for a while, before Isak waves her off and lets her sleep off the six glasses of wine she’s had.

He can hear the sound of her snoring out in the living room within minutes. It’s strangely soothing.

There is too much restless energy still coursing through him as he drops the last of the bottles in a garbage bag, ties it together to bring down to the shop for re-cycling next time they go. He needs to do something to get rid of the feeling before he does something stupid, and sleep is not an option.

After a minute of standing alone in the silent kitchen, Isak goes to the fridge and pulls it open. There’s not enough food in there to last more than a few days, which makes sense since they’re approaching Sunday and with it, their weekly shop. He rifles through the various containers on his shelf and realizes that, if he wants to, he can still make a full meal out of the ingredients left on it.

He’s not hungry, but maybe Even will be when he comes back.

 

Two hours later, Isak takes the chicken out of the oven. He had to spend almost half an hour finding a suitable recipe and then read the instructions over and over again, his brain too scattered to really take in the information.

He scoops up the rice onto a plate, arranges the chicken around it and finishes it off with some sauce on top. It looks good. It looks like something Even could have made, which is the highest praise Isak can think of.

He sits on the counter for forty-five minutes, waiting for the food to cool down enough to cling film and put in the fridge. He goes through Instagram fifteen times.

Still nothing.

 

The next morning, Isak sneaks out before the sun comes up, not wanting to be there when Even gets up and finds the food. He goes down to the harbour, walks around with the doves and the seagulls until his hunger refuses to be ignored.

_Are you home?_

Two seconds pass. _Yeah, hungover as fuck_

Isak smiles. _Can I come over? I can bring food._

_Why would you bring food??? Mum’s making toast_

Isak starts walking, a warm feeling in his chest. He stops outside a café, a little unsure if he really should come empty handed, or if bringing something when he’s told not to is more rude than not.

He ends up getting two cinnamon buns, praying as his card is being processed and cheering a little inside as it goes through. He hides the pastries in his backpack, careful not to crush them. If it comes to it, he can pull them out and hand over.

 

Magnus’ mum greets Isak in the door with a speck of flour on her cheek and a kind smile on her face.

“Morning! Wow, you look absolutely radiant comparing to Magnus.” 

Isak laughs. “I don’t think that’s an accomplishment, really.”

“Shut up, Isak!” Magnus’ voice sounds rougher than it usually does in the morning.

Magnus’ mum rolls her eyes. “You better come in before he shouts himself hoarse.”

Magnus is half-lying on the kitchen table when Isak comes into the room. Magnus looks up long enough to give a little wave before collapsing back down.

“That bad, huh?” Isak sits down next to him, his bag close to his feet for easy access.

“How are you so awake?” Magnus asks, rolling his head to squint up at Isak.

“I didn’t swallow a bottle of tequila before going out,” Isak says drily, lowering his voice so that Magnus’ mum won’t hear.

Magnus narrows his eyes at Isak. “Good point,” he says eventually. “You didn’t come out.”

Isak raises an eyebrow. “Yeah I did, years ago.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh. “Shut up, Isak.”

“Is that the mantra of the day?” Magnus’ mum asks as she sits down opposite Isak. “Seems a little rude.”

“Sorry,” Magnus mumbles before sitting upright. He grabs one a piece of toast and spends a good two minutes buttering it, seemingly entranced by the way the knife moves back and forth across the surface of the bread.

Isak and Magnus’ mum share an amused look, before she reaches over and grabs the knife out of Magnus’ hand. “I think that’s done well enough.”

He blinks a few times, looking quite disoriented as he looks down at his empty hand. Isak is quite proud of himself for not laughing.

Magnus takes a slow bite of his toast. “I think I’m still drunk.”

“We all think that,” his mum replies, before turning to Isak. “Did you have a good night, Isak?”

“Yeah. I didn’t drink as much as Magnus, and I didn’t go to the party, so. Feel fine.” He accepts the cup of coffee offered to him, sipping it carefully.

“You should’ve come. It was fun. Vilde had a red dress on,” Magnus says, looking dreamy.

“I saw it, Mags. She was at the pre-game,” Isak says, only rolling his eyes a little.

“Oh yeah. You know who wasn’t at the pre-game? Even.” Magnus gestures with his bread. “Why wasn’t Even there? I don’t think he’s met Vilde, and she’d really like him.”

Isak puts down his cup. His hands are shaking a little. They usually do when he hasn’t been sleeping, or thought too much about Even, or both.

“He was at a club with his friends,” he says, hoping that his tone is as casual as he’d ideally like it to be.

Magnus hums. “Maybe next time he’ll be there.”

Isak sincerely doubts it. He has a feeling Even’s not going to be around for much longer, greener pastures in the shape of brown eyes and hair calling him away. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Is Even your new roommate?” Magnus’ mum asks.

Isak nods.

“He had an episode not too long ago, right?” There is no judgment in her voice, only understanding.

Isak hates the way his chest reacts at the smallest sign of compassion, especially now since it’s not even for him. “Yeah.”

“If you want to ask about anything, I don’t mind,” she says. “You can pick my brain any time you like.”

Magnus snorts. “Pick your brain. That’s funny.”

“Thanks,” she says, reaching over to brush Magnus’ hair out of his eyes. “I appreciate the support.”

She turns back to Isak. “Just pop round if you have any questions, or call me if you’d like. It can be a lot.”

“It was fine,” Isak says, waving away her words which sounds a lot like Elias’. “Nothing to ask about, really.”

“Okay,” she says. She doesn’t believe him. Neither does Isak.

 

After breakfast, Magnus insists on sitting out on the balcony to get some fresh air and collect enough energy to text Vilde back.

“She worries if I don’t,” he says.

“Alright,” Isak says, taking a seat on the rickety chair next to Magnus'. He pulls out his own phone, messing around on Facebook a little before going to his gallery, looking through photos from the last couple of months.

An embarrassing amount of them are of Even, and most of them are ones Isak's taken in secret. They're not invasive, not really, just shots of Even’s back as he’s painting, one of his hand as he reaches into Isak’s space to grab the ketchup, a flash of his hair in the morning before he’s styled it. Isak should still delete them, but he can’t quite bring himself to, despite him knowing all of them by heart anyway, able to recall them at any given moment, these stolen images burnt into his retina forever.

“How’s that going?” Magnus asks, his voice a little quieter before, a hint of wariness in his tone.

Isak looks up and notices that Magnus has put his phone away. Magnus gestures to Isak’s. “With, you know.”

“Oh.” He’s seen them. Isak’s cheeks burn as he shoves the phone away. “It’s fine.”

Magnus is quiet for a moment. “You say that a lot.”

Isak gives a half-hearted shrug.

“Okay. Did you have a weird talk with him or something? Is that why you came over?”

“No. Just wanted to get out of the flat, I guess.” Isak picks on a scab on his forearm, the skin itching. “Nothing to do with that.”

He looks out over the railing of the balcony, can see people moving around in the nearby houses and wonders what it would be like to be them, settled and comfortable in their own space.

“I made dinner for him,” Isak says without even wanting to. He’s so tired though, so tired of being careful and watching his every step and Magnus already knows, at least a little. There can be no more damage done by extending the confession. “Last night.”

“Yeah?” Magnus is seemingly busy following the flight of a bird to look at Isak.

It makes the words come easier. “Yeah. After you’d all gone, I just- I couldn’t sleep, and I figured he’d be hungry when he got in.” Isak crosses his arms. “I don’t know, it was stupid maybe.”

“I don’t think so,” Magnus says. “Everyone likes it when people cook for them.”

“I guess. I just couldn’t be there when he saw it though.” Isak sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It feels too hot, so he sits on his hands instead, hoping to cool them down. “Sorry for barging in, I didn’t mean to just, like, invite myself.”

“We did say that you should come over more,” Magnus points out. He looks a little contemplative. “Wouldn’t it be cool if he had made food for you when you come home now? Like a relay, but with pasta and shit.”

Isak snorts. “Sure.”

Magnus smiles at him. “It’s gonna happen. Just you wait, you’ll cook for each other in eternity.”

“That's not very likely.”

“We'll see. Fuck, I need to sleep,” Magnus says, yawning as he gets up. “Come on.”

Isak knows when he’s being dismissed except it seems that he doesn’t, because Magnus doesn’t lead him to the door but to his room, pointing to the right side of the bed before collapsing onto the left.

“Don’t worry, I’ve changed the sheets since Vilde was last here,” is the last thing he says before falling asleep.

Isak tentatively gets in next to Magnus, lying on top of the covers and listening to the increasing snores. He falls asleep before he can decide if he feels safe enough to do so or not.

 

Isak gets home a few hours later, and the first thing he does is open the fridge. The plate he made for Even is untouched, the food still looking pristine. 

The sight of it makes Isak a little sick. He’s out the door again within a minute.

 

Fredrik’s parents still live in the same spot as they always did, Isak’s feet taking him there almost automatically as he walks through their neighbourhood. When he realizes where he’s ended up, Isak wants to turn around and flee again but, of course, that is the moment Fredrik walks out the door and spots him.

“Hi!”

Isak gives an awkward wave. “Hey.”

“I was just coming to see you,” Fredrik says, crossing the yard to pull Isak into a hug.

Isak hugs back without hesitation, clinging a little more than he ought. The feeling of being held is overwhelming, even if it is by the wrong person.

“Really?” Isak asks.

Fredrik’s arm stays around him when Isak pulls back and Isak can’t think of a way to get rid of it without being rude.

“Yeah. I figured we could take a walk or something,” Fredrik says, smiling. “Talk a little.”

There’s a bad feeling growing in Isak’s stomach, but he can’t deny Fredrik such a simple request. He nods. “Okay, yeah. We can… talk.”

Fredrik kisses his cheek before steering them down the street. The bad feeling starts to choke. 

 

“So, have you thought about it?” Fredrik asks, once they’ve exhausted all the usual topics of conversation between them, namely video games, mutual friends and the weather.

They never had particularly good conversations. Isak didn’t realize until he met Even.

“About what?” Isak knows what, has read and avoided the texts Fredrik’s been sending, has kept this conversation at bay with nothing but stubborn ignorance.

“About how this is going to work. This time, I mean.”

Isak doesn’t want to talk about it, but if he doesn’t do it now, it’s just going to be a long, drawn-out process coming to the same end as a quick kill will. “Not really. I didn’t- didn’t mean for it to be… more. After that night.”

Fredrik stops walking, using a hand to halt Isak as well. Isak can’t look at him.

“What?” His voice is sharper than before.

“I was drunk,” Isak says, a weak excuse without merit. He should just be honest and confess his feelings for someone else, but Fredrik can be unpredictable and might tell.

Isak can’t have that. Even can’t know. _Mikael_ can’t know.

“You weren’t that drunk,” Fredrik says. “I’ve seen you wasted and that was nowhere near it. Do you think I would’ve fucked you if you were drunk?”

“I didn’t mean it like-“

“Do you?” The sight of Fredrik standing with his arms crossed is familiar enough to get a wave of memories from past fights just like this washing over Isak.

“No,” Isak says, caving out of habit. It’s easier that way.

“So why are you lying?” Fredrik asks.

“I don't-“

“You always do this,” Fredrik says, effectively interrupting him. “This is so fucking typical, you make me believe one thing and then you just turn around and say the opposite. Don’t you see how shitty that is?”

Isak doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be anywhere. “I’m sorry.”

Fredrik sighs. “It’s just… it’s hurtful. And I know you don’t mean it to be but not everyone is gonna know that and you can’t keep being this selfish, you know?”

“Yeah.” There's a bitter taste in Isak's mouth. He has to swallow repeatedly to get rid of it, only for the next breath to bring it back.

Fredrik is quiet for a moment, assessing him. “How many people have you slept with since we broke up?”

Isak’s head jerks up. “What?”

Fredrik stares him down. “How many?”

“You can’t ask that,” Isak says. There’s a spark of something that feels like pride rising within him at the protest. He clings onto it with all his might.

“Yes I can. When you invite me back in just to shut me out again, I can. How many?”

“I don’t want to answer that,” Isak says, his new-found resolve already weakening, even more so when Fredrik narrows his eyes at him.

“Is it that many? Are you ashamed of it?”

“No, I-“

“Is this a thing you do now, just fuck people and then leave them?” Fredrik asks, taking a step back as if repulsed.

“It’s not.” Isak takes a step forward before he can even stop himself, an automated reaction from countless discussions just like this.

“How many, then? If it’s not something you’re ashamed of, why can’t you just tell me?”

Isak looks down. Tries to breathe. “Two. There’s been two.”

“Two? Right, okay. Why have you only slept with two people in a year, then?” Fredrik asks. “Is it because you’re still in love with me?”

“No!”

“Is it because you’re in love with someone else?”

The question takes Isak by surprise, making him halt in his movements and look away, a blinding admission of guilt.

Fredrik snorts. “Wow.”

Isak’s cheeks burn. All he wants to do is run, but his feet are made of lead.

“Does he know that you went home with me?” His voice is sharp, not a trace of warmth left. “That you begged for me to fuck you?”

Isak doesn’t answer, too busy trying to tamp down his tears. All he can see is the expression on Even’s face when Isak came home in Fredrik’s shirt, the disappointment there followed by a quick exit.

_Slut._

“Slut.” Fredrik’s voice matches the one in Isak’s head perfectly. “Whoever he is, he’s not gonna go for someone like that. Seems like you ruined two relationships in one night, well done."

Isak bites his lip, the taste of blood almost soothing.

Fredrik's eyes roam his body one more time before he huffs out a laugh. "Pathetic." He starts walking, making sure to push Isak back a little as he passes, their shoulders colliding. “Good luck finding someone who’s gonna put up with your bullshit.”

Not until Fredrik’s footsteps have disappeared completely does Isak breathe out, a shaky sound on the quiet street.

Yeah. Good luck.

 

The sight of Even coming to greet him as Isak lies down on the couch re-opens up a stab wound in Isak’s mind, and he can’t really rid it of Fredrik’s voice, but he still can’t deny himself spending time with an Even who’s willing to spend time with him. 

It might not last that long, better to shamelessly take advantage while he can.

When Even gets up to make tea a few minutes later, he pats Isak’s ankle in passing. The touch is light enough not to leave any trace behind, but then again, Even never does.

Isak wishes he would.

 

There’s a white noise taking over as soon as Even says “I’m not interested in that anymore… the feelings faded… not interested in him… “

It doesn’t add up. There are certain truths unquestionable, and Even being in love with Mikael is one of them. The possibility for change within that belief system is not an option.

And yet. Even wears a smile as he speaks the words. Looks up at Isak.

Keeps smiling.

Eskild comes through the door, interrupting them. He brings reality with him.

 

It’s been a while since Isak’s gotten so lost he’s needed Eskild to pull him back out of the self-made labyrinth in his mind, but as Isak stares down at the beige rug in his room and robotically recalls all the things Fredrik said to him, it’s like nothing in the past year has even happened. Like he’s still the same idiot who broke up with someone without, even for a second, considering their emotions. Like he’s still being careless with people’s hearts, still being selfish and greedy. Isak thought he was doing better, but as he repeats Fredrik’s words out loud, he realizes he’s just the same. He’ll always be the same.

Eskild doesn’t say anything when Isak finishes. At the count of twenty, Isak looks up at him, but recoils within a second.

He’s angry.

“I’m sorry,” Isak mumbles, tries to make himself smaller, reduce himself to something less offensive.

Eskild takes a slow breath. Breathes out again. “Have you told anyone else what he said?”

Isak shakes his head.

“Have you told anyone what he said last time?”

Another shake. He knows he’s disappointing Eskild, knows that he wants Isak to tell Jonas, to tell Magnus, to tell Linn. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” Eskild says. He rubs a hand over his eyes. Isak’s dad used to do that too, right after Isak’s mum had an outburst.

Isak loves his mum but he never wanted to be her.

“Can you come here please?” Eskild asks. His voice is soft and Isak follows it without a second thought, taking a seat on the bed.

He’s expecting an arm around his shoulders, maybe a side-ways hug, the usual pattern of Eskild’s support. Instead, Eskild takes his hand.

It’s ridiculous how much the simple gesture grounds Isak. Makes his eyes well up. Weakens him.

“Right. So I’m not a therapist or anything, but I think he’s a little messed up. You don’t just go round calling people slut if you’re not.”

“Lots of people do,” Isak says.

“Not like that,” Eskild says, a definitive statement made obvious by his tone. “Not like they really mean it.”

Isak shrugs a little. He can feel himself sink lower down, his shoulders hunching. “It’s fine.”

“No.” Eskild squeezes his hand. “No, it’s not. He’s wrong.”

“He’s not.”

“He is. No one else thinks that of you, Isak. No one. Not me, not Linn, not your friends.” Eskild pauses for a second. “Not Even.”

A tear spills over, lands on the hem of Isak’s t-shirt. It makes an ugly stain.

“Fredrik is messed up, Isak. He’s mean.”

“I slept with him.” The words come out as if through the cracks of a wall, seeping out into the room. Isak doesn’t recognise his own voice, thick and full of emotions he never wants to name. “I didn’t even want to.”

“I know.” Eskild lets go of his hand only to wrap his arms around Isak, letting Isak clutch onto him, dig his nails into his back.

Isak’s sobs are ugly, too loud and obvious. They always are.

 

It takes a while for him to calm down, Eskild keeping up a steady stroke up and down his back as Isak tries to figure out how to breathe. Without pulling back, he reaches up to wipe his eyes away from the final tears. Tries to find stability.

“Linn is seeing someone.” His voice is shot to hell, but it’s worth pushing the words out only to feel Eskild chuckle.

“I know. I’m dying to know who it is.”

“She’s never going to let him near you,” Isak says.

Eskild huffs. “I have my ways.”

Isak moves back, pulling his legs up so he can rest his chin on his knees, hugging himself. He has a lot of experience in that, and sometimes it calms him more than the touch of someone else. “Are you going to follow her around with binoculars and a camera?”

“Oh, yeah. I saw some great black t-shirts at H&M, I’ll pop in and get one of those for my disguise,” Eskild says, lying down on the bed, making himself comfortable. “Or maybe I should wear a polo shirt?”

“It’s more stealth,” Isak says. His throat hurts a little when he speaks, but it also does when he’s not.

“True,” Eskild muses. “Although, my neck doesn’t look as good in a polo shirt. There’s something about the cut that just doesn’t fit me, I dunno.”

“Hm.”

As Eskild continues to talk about the feud his face has with high necklines, Isak can feel himself relax, one body part at a time.

 

They play Monopoly, Eskild, Linn, Even and him. Even is surprisingly bad, seemingly distracted every time he has to pay up. Isak wants to slide him some of his streets, but he doesn’t think the others would take too kindly to that.

He settles for giving encouragement through small smiles scattered throughout the game. He doesn’t know if it helps in the slightest.

 

It’s a Sunday morning and it’s the beginning to the new life of Isak. He’s been awake pretty much the entire night and has devised a plan for how he’s going to stop making a fool of himself in front of Even and start getting over him.

The first thing that needs to change is the fake sleeping on Sundays. It’s not normal, pretending to doze off just to be near to someone, it’s a little creepy and above all else, it crosses the imaginary line. Isak is not going to do it anymore, but he can't just cut himself off without warning. Like an avid smoker looking to quit, he’s going to have to wean himself of the addiction, starting today.

On his way out of the room, Isak grabs his phone. Fredrik’s messaged him. 

_Come over when you've calmed down so we can talk._

Isak recognizes the text. It’s the exact same one he used to get a few days after a fight, regardless of who started it. Immediately, his fingers get ready to text back an _I’m sorry, be right there_ and a purple heart.

Even’s voice carries through the door. He sounds happy, calm. Isak listens in for a second.

Looks down at his phone.

_No._

He sends it and blocks the number. Something inside him settles.

 

The idea behind him slowly weaning himself off of Even’s touch is that he still gets to have it for a little while before breaking away. The problem with weaning himself off of Even’s touch is that he can’t move away when Even, for once, lets him in.

It ends up with Isak actually falling asleep after a while, helpless between his heavy eyelids and the warmth of Even’s tentative arm around his shoulders.

 

A few hours later, Isak opens the fridge to find that the food he made for Even is gone, the dirty plate in the sink, proving Even kept his promise from before about having it for lunch. It’s a somewhat novel concept to Isak, even though it shouldn’t be.

Isak still checks the garbage bin, feeling a little guilty as he scans the collection of tea bags and orange peel and a lot relieved when he can’t find a single trace of chicken or rice amongst them.

 

Even wants to talk to him. They’re in the middle of the supermarket and Even wants to talk to him, his voice urgent and his hands slightly clenched.

This, Isak thinks, is the breaking point. This is where Even brings up his misreading of his own thoughts, how Mikael never left them and how he needs Isak to make sense of it. He can do that. Isak can sort it out for Even, he’s good at that.

Not for himself, but for others.

He recognizes the nervous energy Even’s exuding on the way home, the buzzing hidden under his skin. It’s the same one Isak had in the beginning, before they hosted Even’s moving-in party and Isak met Mikael, met _EvenandMikael_. 

They get home, get up the stairs, get into the flat.

Even is restless, disappearing a little right in front of Isak. As he puts away the pasta and sorts out the fruit, Isak tries to gauge what it is Even is so nervous about. He knows Isak knows about Mikael, so that can’t be the reason.

And then it hits him, all the pieces falling together. Even is leaving.

 

Isak leads them to his bedroom, wanting all the bad feelings centred there instead of inflicting them on Even’s room, the room that will soon be someone else’s.

Even is nervous, his hands flitting around. He doesn’t want to sit. Isak would like to collapse, but he can’t. Not yet.

Isak wants to speak up, wants to start the conversation quick only to get to the end faster, but he knows it’s not up to him. He’ll wait for Even, though. It’s all he ever does.

“I told the guys about me not being straight,” Even says.

Isak can feel a small part of the constant weight lift off his shoulders. Despite the fact that it’s been a no-brainer for him that Elias and the others were going to nothing but loving, the evidence obvious in their interaction with Isak and, on occasion, Eskild, but he knows it’s something Even’s been dreading.

It makes sense. Even’s friends knowing about Even’s sexuality has probably always been closely tied to them knowing about Even’s feelings for Mikael. From Even’s smile, it’s clear they’ve been supportive all the way. They're probably supportive of Even moving as well. Maybe it's a flat shared amongst them, so that Even can be around his friends every day.

He’s happy for Even. He’s breaking for himself.

As Even starts talking again, Isak tries to conjure something resembling a kind of armour, anything that can help him not to bleed out as the words hits him.

Even moves closer as he speaks but Isak can’t hear what he's saying, Even’s words coming as through a thick veil. Isak can feel the tremors coming over him, the ones that comes back every once in a while when the days have been too long and the nights non-existent, when he's been unable to find peace for longer than a few seconds at a time. The ones that stay for hours, draining him until there’s no more energy to take. He hasn’t had them for a while, but he’s never been foolish enough to think he was going to be rid of them forever.

Even is less than a feet away. Isak would like him closer and himself far away.

In the millisecond before Even speaks again, Isak’s brain kick back into gear and all his senses overwhelm him with impressions. There’s the scent of Even’s soap, still clinging to his skin. There’s the sight of Even in front of him, Even’s arms and shoulders and chest, Even’s eyes trying to catch his. There’s the taste of acid in his mouth. There’s the feeling of an almost-touch at his waist, a dry mouth, a tear-filled eye.

There’s the sound of Even’s shaky exhale.

And then Even says it.

It’s Isak’s name spoken like something that matters, it's a sentence that contains _I_ and  _in love with_ and _you_ in the same breath as _not expecting anything_ , and Isak doesn’t get it, doesn’t get it, doesn’t get it.

He desperately searches Even’s face for clues, looking for the lies all previous declarations of love have been continuously tainted with and finds nothing but truth.

It doesn’t fit. Isak is not the kind of person that provokes this kind of love, knows he's not lovable in the way other people are. 

Still, here Even stands, claiming all of Isak’s truths to be wrong, giving an answer to something Isak never even thought of as a question. 

The wariness in Even’s eyes is laughable, his nervousness in context of his words ridiculous. Isak would not, will not, ever not want him. He has no idea how Even cannot know that.

“You’re so stupid,” Isak says, because that’s the only explanation, this being some sort of malfunction in the universe, a lapse of judgment from Even’s part that will allow Isak to have him for a second, maybe for a minute.

Isak leans in and kisses him before his time is up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, turns out there are 4 chapters and not 3 to this story. oh well. thank you for all the comments and kudos, and thank you for being patient with the slow updates. hopefully the next, (and last this time, promise) chapter will come along in a more timely fashion. 
> 
> [here is my tumblr](http://icelandcurry.tumblr.com) and [here is the post for this chapter](http://icelandcurry.tumblr.com/post/165336856342/snapshots-of-a-scattered-heart-chapter-three-the)


	4. bookends and bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak has people now. He just needs to get used to it.

The first couple of hours after the kiss are somewhat of a blur. Isak knows he manages to get out an apology about letting Even down during his episode, although it was probably not nearly as good as Even deserves, and he knows that Even got nervous and a bit hesitant before inviting Isak to stay the night.

Isak has never been in a position to turn down any kind of closeness to Even and he’s not about to start now.

After a beat, he realizes that’s not true. He did turn Even down once. As he lies awake in Even’s bed in the early morning hours, he turns to the warm body next to him. Studies the soft lines of Even’s face, the planes of his nose, the faint blush on his cheeks.

The thing is, Isak did ask. After he pulled away from the kiss, he asked Even whether or not it really is Isak he sees. Even said yes.

Isak still can’t help but doubt it.

 

The morning eventually comes and Isak is ready for it. If he can only keep Even in this bubble, and make sure to do everything right for these next few days, maybe there will be a brief period of time where this could be real.

Isak carefully combs through Even’s hair when he notices him stirring, selfishly wanting his touch to be the first thing Even notices when waking up. He doesn’t get a chance to kiss Even before Linn comes in.

He makes himself scarce, wandering out into the kitchen and stares at the appliances as if he’s never seen them before. It’s not as if one night has magically altered the appearance of the room, but he is a slightly different version of himself than he was when he last inhabited this space which casts it in a different light. He’s now someone who has slept next to Even, who has kissed him, who has looked at him for minutes, hours even, at a time without feeling guilty. He’s someone who is going to either break or be broken by Even in the coming days, weeks or months. It’s inevitable, and it’s going to be soon. Isak is not made to be sustainable, but it’s alright. It’s fine.

He’s gotten quite good at making new copies of himself, improved to last a little longer than the one before. He can do it again.

 

There is a hesitant moment when Even is ready to leave, Isak standing in front of him, waiting for a confirmation, for a touch, for instructions on how to act. This is how it usually goes, Isak waits and conforms to the ideas of the person he's with.

Except Even doesn’t give any instructions, doesn’t make plans for the both of them, doesn’t say anything other than that he likes Isak’s stolen shirt. Isak doesn’t know what to do, so he follows his strongest instinct and leans forward to kiss Even. It’s the first one they’ve shared in the hallway. Isak stores it away for the future, files it away next to the other ones.

The door shuts and Isak's thoughts immediately grow louder. He wants to run after Even just to get it to quiet down again.

He wears Even’s shirt to school instead, counting it as the next best thing. The feel of it helps a little. The smell helps a lot.

 

The walk to the table where his friends are currently seated has never felt so long. Isak can feel himself get worked up as his feet carry him closer, as he can start to catch snippets of conversation. He doesn’t know how he's going to phrase it, but he needs to tell them, to document it in the minds of his friends so that they can remind him later on that it was real, that it happened outside of the confinements of his mind.

He sits down. Jonas hands him a napkin to mop up the ketchup left from the previous occupant of Isak’s spot.

“Thanks,” Isak mumbles, drying it off before putting his sandwich down.

“Did you see Sana’s shoes today?” Magnus asks. “They’re like, super high but still looks like sneakers, they’re awesome. I want a pair.”

Mahdi huffs out a laugh. “Okay? Ask her where she got them, then.”

“I did,” Magnus says. “She’s gonna send me the link.”

“They’re not gonna fit you,“ Jonas says.

“Um, maybe they will? You don’t know.” Magnus points a bread roll at Jonas. “Don’t kill the dream just yet. I’m going to be taller than all of you.”

Isak snorts. “Well, whatever helps your masculinity, I guess.”

Jonas high-fives him. Magnus gapes at them. “It has nothing to do with that! Excuse me for wanting to be tall. You’re closer to heaven, you know.”

Mahdi groans into his hands, the shaking of his shoulders the only tell that he’s laughing.

“That’s nice, did you read that on a throw pillow?” Isak asks. “I think my nan used to have one of those.”

Magnus sticks his tongue out. “Excuse me for wanting to keep you updated on my life.”

There’s his cue. “Um, no, that’s- you should do that. We should all… do that,” Isak says, more to his sandwich than to anyone around the table.

There is a pointed beat of silence before Jonas nudges his shoulder. “Speak.”

Isak clears his throat, still not quite sure how to put it. He can’t say him and Even are in a relationship, because they’re not there yet. He can’t say they’re sleeping together in any other way except platonic, cause they’re not there yet either. He can’t say that Even is in love with him because he doesn’t want it to backfire on him if it turns out it’s all been a projection from Even’s part.

In the end, there is only one undisputable fact. “I kissed Even.”

Magnus drops his roll.

“Even as in your roommate, Even?” Jonas asks.

Isak nods.

Mahdi ponders it for a moment, before nodding decidedly. “Nice.”

“What did he do?” Magnus asks, leaning in. “Did it go… well?”

Isak nods.

“Get in!” Magnus says, whooping a little. He picks up his bread again, shoving half of it in his mouth at once. “I knew it,” he says, spraying crumbs all over the table top.

Jonas smiles, but there’s a hint of something else there, a slight disappointment lurking underneath. “That’s great.”

Isak should have told him weeks ago, months ago. It’s quite telling that he didn’t. “It wasn’t gonna… you know, ever actually happen,” he says quietly, hoping Jonas won’t misunderstand.

“I get it,” Jonas says. “It’s fine.”

It’s not, but Isak can fix it. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s how to make things up to Jonas. He’s gotten a lot of practice throughout the years.

 

On his way home, Isak makes a definite decision. He’s going to go all out, embarrassingly, hopelessly, recklessly all out. He’s going to pretend that this is something that will last, something that is tangible and reciprocated and deserved.

He’s going to be with Even until he’s told otherwise, and he’s not going to hold back.

 

He lies down with Linn who looks just a shade too sad to be alone, the scratchy carpet itching his back but the music playing from Linn’s phone taking the edge off. 

“Can you talk about something?” Linn asks.

“Anything?” Isak asks. This is something he knows she used to do with Eskild.

“Anything,” she says.

So he does.

 

Even comes home sometime later, sits down with them. Isak takes his hand and tries to keep his voice steady. Linn goes into her room and Isak can’t look away from Even with his soft lips and his hair askew and his lovely, all-encompassing warmth. They move to Isak's room and his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

“ _We’ve just gotten together_.” He says this. Isak says this, laughingly, as if it’s a joke, as if the joke is something else rather than his bold assumption.

Even doesn’t contradict him. Even indulges him. Even kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

When the doorbell rings and Isak makes to leave, Even pushes him back down gently and kisses him again. As Even leaves the room, Isak has to close his eyes and concentrate hard on anything that isn’t desperately calling him back.

 

Soon after, he can hear voices coming from the hallway, meaning that whoever was at the door was important enough to interrupt them. As Isak identifies Elias’ and Mutta’s voices, he is no longer hesitant about whether or not that’s insulting. He likes the fact that Even puts his friends above everything, it’s one of Isak’s favourite things about him. The only problem with them visiting is that he’s not really sure how to act towards them now when there’s no tangible situation to deal with, not knowing if they actually like him or simply accepts his presence.

Not knowing if they’ll ever approve of him being with Even, which is a problem since Isak is pretty sure Even would follow his friends’ guidance to the ends of everything.

Isak stays in his room, tries to breathe. It’s eight minutes before Even knocks on the door.

It’s ten before he’s out in the kitchen, being hugged by Mutta.

It’s one hundred and thirty before Mikael comes through the door and Isak is thrown back to the beginning.

 

He ends up telling Even about his sleepless Sunday sleep-ins on the couch. It’s not nearly as embarrassing as he thought it would be, mostly because Even doesn’t make fun of him, doesn’t taunt him, doesn’t even tease him about it. He kisses him instead.

 

-

 

Isak buzzes the door, hopping a little from foot to foot to starve off the cold. He knew he should’ve bundled up more, but the green one was the only of Even’s scarfs that was available, and using one of his own, despite them being thicker, now feels like a ridiculous notion. He’d rather take the cold.

“Hello?” Eskild sings through the intercom.

“Hi,” Isak says, the familiar click as the door unlocks coming soon thereafter. He pulls the door open and tries to get rid of all the excess snow under the soles of his shoes before ascending the slippery stairs.

Eskild is, as always, already waiting in the doorway, pulling Isak in as soon as he gets close enough. “Hi!”

Isak hugs back tightly, but without desperation. It’s somewhat breaking the mould, and he likes it. “How are you?”

“Good,” Eskild beams, untangling them to usher Isak inside.

It’s a nice flat, smaller than Isak’s but cosy in a particularly Eskild kind of way. “Are you home alone?”

“Yep. I didn’t think I’d like it, but…” Eskild shrugs. “It’s kinda nice sometimes.”

“Well, that’s good.” Isak smiles at him as he toes off his shoes, lining them up against the wall.

Eskild walks into the kitchen, letting Isak follow at his own pace. He takes a minute to check for updates, finding a few new pillows on the couch and some photos tacked on the wall. The door to Eskild’s room is wide open, but he doesn’t look in there yet. They’re going to end up there anyway, no need to be nosy.

“Got your coffee ready,” Eskild says.

“Coming,” Isak says, taking another turn around the hallway and living room before joining Eskild. “Thanks.”

Eskild toasts him. “So… are you going to drag this out or be nice and dish about it?”

“I’m, um. Be nice and dish?” He wants to talk to Eskild about Even, but he’s not sure how to do it when there are no hurt feelings involved. How people talk about their relationships without needing to cover up the bad bits is something Isak has never learned. The only time he’s really done it is with Eskild, and that was when all the bad bits were the reason for conversation in the first place.

“You want me to ask stuff instead of you winging it?” Eskild asks, always one step ahead.

Isak breathes out. “Yeah, okay.”

“Alright. Sit down first though, you’re making me nervous.”

Isak wasn’t even aware that he was pacing until Eskild points him to a chair. He sits down, takes a sip of his coffee. Makes a face.

“Sugar is bad for you,” Eskild says, waving Isak’s frown away. “So I put some raw agave honey in instead, it’s natural.”

“It’s disgusting,” Isak says. “Isn’t that the kind of stuff you put in tea?”

“Aha!” Eskild says. “Starting to learn about tea, huh? Is this because of lovely Even?”

“He likes it,” Isak says defensively, the tips of his ears going hot. “And I wanted to know a bit because, you know.”

“I know,” Eskild says. His voice is kind. “So, how far has this gone? And not emotionally, because I know that part.”

“Then wha-“

“Have you slept with him?” Eskild says, interrupting with a raised eyebrow.

“Eskild! That’s not- like, how is that relevant?” Isak pulls his hood up, playing with the string.

Eskild says nothing.

“No,” Isak says eventually. “I haven’t slept with him. That’s not, like, the most important thing.”

“Good,” Eskild says. “I’d worry if it was. But…”

Isak looks up when the pause stretches.

“What, you think I should have slept with him already?”

“It’s not exactly that. It’s just. I don’t want the last person you slept with to be Fredrik,” Eskild says, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh,” Isak retreats a little. “I- Well, I don’t want that either. But I don’t want to sleep with Even just because of that.”

“Neither do I,” Eskild hastens to say. “It’s just a stupid hang-up, I’m sorry. I just sort of casually hate the guy, you know.”

Isak smiles. “Even said kinda the same thing.”

“You told him about Fredrik's various assholery?” Eskild lights up. “That’s great, Isak, I’m so proud of you, how did-“

“I didn’t tell him. He was just, like, I don’t know. Jealous of him before we got together,” Isak says, pressing his lips together. He knows that’s no basis for pride from Eskild and he tries to tamp down how desperately he wants the approval.

It’s fine. He'll get there eventually.

“He was jealous? Jealous how?” Eskild takes a sip of his coffee but it’s not enough to hide the lines in his forehead deepening.

“Not in a bad way,” Isak says, quick to defend. “He didn’t do anything about it, he just told me afterwards. Like, when we’d already hooked up and stuff. He didn’t do… that.”

“Okay, good. I’m still keeping an eye on him,” Eskild says. “I’m not allowing that again. Or, no, correction. I’m not letting you allow it again.”

“I don’t want to allow it,” Isak says quietly.

“Not even with how much you like Even?” Eskild asks.

He takes a second to think it over, then shakes his head. “No.”

It’s a sort of unbelievable belief when he realizes the truth of it. He’s not going to let Even treat him like Isak’s been treated before. He doesn’t want to.

“You never liked Fredrik,” Isak says, looking up at Eskild.

“No.”

“You didn’t even like him before I told you… stuff.”

“No.”

Isak bites his lip. “But… you like Even.”

“Yeah,” Eskild says. “I do.”

A rush of warmth spreads through Isak’s chest. “Okay.”

 

Over the next few hours, he tells Eskild everything. He always does in the end, but this time there are no jagged edges to keep away from, no emotional bruises needing an explanation, no incidents to excuse. There are only a few points of doubt, and he goes through them all dutifully.

“And so I told him that he didn’t have to be so hesitant about, like, touching me and stuff,” he says. “I don’t know if that was pushy.”

They’ve migrated into Eskild’s room, the afternoon sun staining the floor with gold. It’s quiet in here, safe and calm.

“You’re not the only one who’s nervous about this,” Eskild says. “He’s been into someone who wasn’t into him for a really long time and now he’s suddenly gotten a boyfriend? He’s gonna need some adjustment time.”

“We’re not boyfriends,” Isak says. “We haven’t talked about that.”

“Okay,” Eskild says calmly. “Well, at least we know what’s next on the agenda.”

“You think?” Isak looks at him, “It’s not a bit soon.”

“Nah, not with how long you’ve been building this up,” Eskild says. “Better lock that ass down.”

Isak huffs out a laugh. “I think that’s a little offensive.”

“What are you gonna do, sic your boyfriend on me?”

“Maybe. He’s really good with social issues, actually,” Isak says, sappy pride shining through without him even caring.

“I’m shaking in my crocs,” Eskild says, hand on heart.

“You will be.” Isak worries a piece of lint on his sweater. “You really think we should have the boyfriend talk?”

“I think things are going to get messy if you don’t.”

 

-

 

They’ve been studying in Even’s room for an hour, their feet the only part of them touching. Isak is trying not to rub his toes against Even’s too much, afraid of distracting Even from his project, but he can’t help but occasionally bump their feet together, just to feel Even bumping back.

“You making any progress?” Even asks, putting his book down on his chest. Isak would more than like to replace it.

“A little,” he admits. “It’s taking ages.”

“Well, I think it’s important to take frequent pauses,” Even says, nudging Isak’s laptop out of his lap. "It's been scientifically proven."

“Really?” Isak scoots down a little so he’s level with Even.

“Mhm,” Even says, leans in to kiss Isak’s jaw, his hand coming up to rest over Isak’s ribs. “I read that in a very serious magazine.”

Isak snorts, but obliges Even when he’s being poked, turning over a little. “You don’t read magazines.”

“You don’t know that,” Even says. “Maybe that’s my dark secret. Maybe I have a stash full of magazines under a loose floorboard, and it’s not even regular porn, it’s really niche science porn, just studies on top of studies on top of studies.”

The eyebrow wriggle really should be over the top, but it does make Isak laugh which is probably the point of it.

“Wow. That might be a little too twisted for me,” Isak says, leaning in so their noses brush. “I might have to rethink this whole thing.”

“Oh no,” Even says, dramatically throwing himself on Isak, kissing his face all over. “I better distract you.”

Isak does his best to fend for himself but is helpless against the giggles bubbling up, ending up capitulating way too soon. “Okay, okay, I won’t, I won’t.”

Even moves his lips back to Isak’s, kissing him until his head is heavy with want.

“Promise?” Even mumbles.

“Promise.” Isak pulls Even’s arm tighter around him, losing a hand in his hair. He loses himself in another kiss, shivering as Even’s hands wander down his sides, sneaking in under his shirt.

They kiss until Isak’s inner bell of anxiety goes off and he has to pull away. “I actually really need to study, though.”

“Okay,” Even says, stealing one last kiss. “But I’m gonna steal your feet.”

Isak’s brain has been effectively turned stupid enough for him to have a fleeting fear of Even cutting his legs off by the ankle. “What?”

“Mhm,” Even says, scooting down to lift Isak’s feet up only to plop them onto his lap. He pulls off the sock of one of them before digging his thumb into the sole, rubbing it slowly.

“You’re giving me a massage?”

“Yeah,” Even says, looking quite calm about it.

“But… people don’t do that.”

“What people?” Even frowns at him in confusion, which Isak thinks is a little steep considering Isak’s not the one with someone’s heel in his palm.

“Just- people!” Isak says, waving his hand uselessly in the air.

“Are you telling me no one’s given you a foot massage before?” Even asks.

“Of course they haven’t!” Isak says. “That’s not something that people actually do.”

Even looks at him sort of slack-jawed before giving a decisive nod. “Right. You know all those cheesy things people do in movies, like taking baths together and having candles and rose petals everywhere? Going to fancy restaurants and buying candy hearts and giving foot massages?”

Isak feels like he’s edging dangerous territory. “Yeah.”

“We’re gonna do those things.”

“Which ones?” Isak asks.

“All of them,” Even says. “Unless there’s some of them you don’t want to do, because in that case we can just skip that. You don’t like candy hearts, so we won’t bother with that, but the other ones, maybe?”

Isak can only nod. Nod again. Lean over and try to kiss Even and nod at the same time. It’s not successful in anything other than making Even laugh, which is sort of perfect since that’s the permanent goal anyways.

“Step one,” Even says, kissing Isak’s nose before picking Isak’s laptop up and handing it to him. “Foot massage while studying.”

Isak looks down at his half-written assignment, then back up at Even. “Alright,” he says.

Even beams at him before pulling Isak’s other sock off and getting right back into it. Isak does nothing but stare at his screen for ten minutes, getting used to the feeling of being looked after.

 

He ends up finishing all the questions in record time, quickly enough to have time to sneak in some research about giving massages before Even realizes he’s done. If he’s going to return the favour, he’s going to do it right.

 

-

 

He’s managed to completely run out of room in his notebooks, which is kind of impressing since it’s only half-way through the term. Going over the selection in the bookshop doesn’t take long, but the only ones that are even remotely cheap enough to buy are all ugly. He’s flipping through one with sneakers printed on the bottom of every single page and contemplating going to the supermarket to check if they have any when he hears familiar voices nearby.

“She wouldn’t want that one anyway, it’s looks boring.”

“No, it’s not, what are you talking about? It’s fine, don’t judge it by it’s cover. Get it, cover? Cause it's a book?”

“I'm sure I laughed at that the first time you told it, but given that it's been about thirty years since then, let's just say it's lost its charm.”

Isak is torn between staying exactly where he is, or step forward and say hi. He wants to do the latter, but is scared it’ll be a bit pushy.

In the end, thankfully, he doesn't need to make a choice.

“Isak! Hi!” Even’s dad looks exactly like he did way back when they first met, his hair slightly untamed and his shoes scuffed. Even’s mum is next to him, looking much more put together but not even close to looking strict.

“Hi,” he says, giving them a smile.

“You in the mood for some books?” Even’s dad asks.

“Kind of, I need some stuff for school,” Isak says, waving the notebook a little before remembering the horrid design and shoving it back on the shelf. “Are you, um, shopping?”

The amount of shame immediately following the inane question could fuel a small country. Miraculously, Even’s parents don’t seem to mind his awkwardness.

“Not by choice,” Even’s dad says. “We need a gift for a friend of ours. I don’t know why we’re going for a book since she doesn’t even like to read but, as always, I was voted down.”

“Yes, you poor soul,” Even’s mum says drily. “So repressed.” She rolls her eyes at Isak, who can’t help but smile. “Did you hear that Even’s thinking about doing a master degree?”

“Yeah, he talked about it a little,” Isak says.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Even’s dad says. “Can never go wrong with education, especially when it’s free.”

Isak nods.

“Hey, did you have a chance to read the book I couriered over?”

Even’s mum sighs. “He’s in his final year, he doesn’t have time to read some weirdo physics book.”

“No, no, I’ve read it. Not all of it, cause I haven’t really had time, but. Do you need it back?” Isak asks. He really wants to finish it, but it seems rude to keep if for too long.

“No, you’re fine. Take all the time you need,” Even’s dad says, and he looks genuinely unbothered by it.

Isak makes a split-second decision. “Um, I found a flow chart from one of the chapters in another book, and they had a different theory about how it should be interpreted.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they’d found some inconsistencies in the source material that changes the possible outcome quite a lot.” Isak’s eyes dart between them, Even’s mum looking politely interested but his dad looking like Christmas has come early with extra hats and candy canes.

“Is it the one at the end of chapter seven?”

Isak nods.

Even’s dad lights up, if possible, even more. “Do you remember the title of it? They should have it here, right? They have a good science section.”

“I borrowed it from the library, so I don’t know if they have it in shops still. I’d recognise it if I see it, though,” Isak says.

“Would you mind helping me find it?”

“No,” Isak says, embarrassingly touched to be asked. “I- I don’t mind.”

 

They end up spending close to forty-five minutes scouring the shelves, chatting with various staff members and waiting by the info desk before one of the girls triumphantly returns with a copy in hand.

Isak waits while it’s being rung up, trying to spot Even’s mum somewhere but is unable to see her. 

“She’s gone outside,” Even’s dad says when he notices Isak looking, accepting the bagged book with a smile. “I always end up browsing for too long and she has to wait for me. Most patient woman in the world.”

Isak smiles. “Even’s patient too.”

“He is, yeah. Thank god he got so many good things from his mum, it’d be a disaster with two of us in the same house.” He holds the door up for Isak. “Oh wow, it’s almost dark now.”

Even’s mum is on the phone when they spot her. “We did, yeah. I know! Alright, well I’ll see you then. Bye. Bye, bye.” She hangs up. “That was Petra, and she thought the book was a great idea.”

“I declare myself defeated. We found it, by the way.” Even's dad says, rustling the bag a little.

“That’s great! Oh, and I got this for you, Isak, but I don’t know if you like it,” She holds out an identical bag to Isak. “I didn’t know if you needed pens and stuff as well, so I got some of those too. I took the receipt in case you want to return something.”

Isak takes it out of reflex more than anything. He peaks inside. Two of the black notebooks he was considering before checking the price, along with a few highlighters, pens and pencils. “I-“

“I took the black ones cause I thought the yellow were a bit blinding, but you can change them if you like.”

“I don’t- they’re great, but… you didn’t have to buy me anything,” Isak says. He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, but it’s not altogether unpleasant.

She waves it away. “You just spent ages trying to find a book for this nerd, you deserve a thank you gift.”

“Words hurt, you know,” Even’s dad says. “And for the record, this is not a nerdy book, it’s about multiple universes.”

“Kinda proving my point there, honey.” She takes a look at her clock, grimacing. “We’re gonna be late now.”

“Well, that was predictable,” Even’s dad says, turning to Isak. “We’re always late.”

“Really?"

He nods sagely. “Yeah. I don’t even know why, it’s just a thing. Used to drive Even up the wall when he was a kid, cause he’s always right on time.”

Isak smiles. “Is that why he always leaves the flat fifteen minutes before he needs to?”

“That’d be it, yeah. We’ve scarred him for life.” Even’s dad sighs heavily, before dropping the act and smiling at Isak. “Well, I’m gonna read this as soon as I have time, and I’ll get back to you on what I think.”

“Okay,” Isak says. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

“It was nice seeing you,” Even’s mum says. “We’ve meant to come over more but it’s just been a bit hectic.”

“Yeah, we need to bug you guys a bit more often,” Even’s dad says.

“You’re welcome anytime,” Isak says, hoping it doesn’t sound desperate.

Even’s mum surprises him with a hug, quickly followed by one from her husband. “Give me a shout if you want to discuss this sometime,” he says when pulling back.

“Sure,” Isak says. He waves them off before turning the opposite direction and starts towards the tram. His grip on the bag is tight enough for his knuckles to whiten, biting his lip to not burst out into tears of an embarrassing singalong of some kind, his emotions going haywire.

 

He barely makes it through the door before he blurts out what he spent most of the ride home thinking about. “We need to talk about money.”

Even pauses halfway on his way over to Isak. “Um, okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just- something we should do.” Isak takes care to actually hang up his jacket properly, stalling a little while trying to find the words. He walks straight into Even’s arms when he’s done, not willing to sacrifice his hello hug despite needing to stay on track.

Even sways them a little, pressing a kiss to Isak’s hair before willingly pulling back when Isak prods him a little. “Did you find a new notebook?”

“Sort of, yeah.” He knows Even’s parents will probably tell Even about the run-in, but he kind of wants to keep it to himself for a while longer. It was just… nice, the whole thing, from the book search to the gift to the hugs. He’s going to be selfish about it for a bit. “Is Linn home?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Okay, let me just say hi to her and then we can talk.” Isak leans into Even’s hand when it comes up to brush a wayward curl behind his ear.

“I’ll make tea,” Even says.

 

They’re sat on Even’s bed, their teacups steaming on the table. Isak’s got one of Even’s hands in between both of his, needing the comfort of it to get through the conversation. 

“You know those things you said about how we should do movie-type things? Candles and stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, some of them are a little expensive, and I can’t really do that because… because I have no money.” Isak can feel the discomfort of it seep in, always feeling weird when talking about things he can’t afford. “I have enough for rent and food, and beer sometimes, but that’s it.”

He clears his throat. “I’ve tried to get jobs and stuff, but it doesn’t really work because I get too stressed and then I can’t sleep and then my grades drop and my grades can’t drop. I need them to be good more than I need to be able to buy shit so, yeah.”

Even scoots a little closer. “I get that.”

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed when I can’t go to the movies or something. Because I usually can’t.”

“That’s okay.” Even squeezes yet a little closer, their thighs perfectly lined up. “There’s tons of stuff to do that doesn’t cost anything.”

Isak nods a little shakily. “Okay, good. Thank you”

“Hey.” Even pulls one of Isak’s hands free to lift it up and kiss it. “I really don’t mind. But, um. Do you think it would maybe help if we started buying more food together? Cause we have sort of the same things on our shelves, and it’s just dumb to have two sets of butter and cereal and stuff.”

Isak blinks up at him.

“We do a weekly shop anyway, might as well split all of it,” Even says. “If you’d like.”

“You don’t mind?” Isak asks. “I mean, I’d pay for my share.”

“Yeah, of course, we'd share it equally. We could make a list!” Even says, his eyes starting to fly around the room like they always do when he gets an idea. “And we could put it on the fridge with a magnet, and then we just fill it with whatever thing we run out of during the week, or just things we're craving.”

“We could do that,” Isak says.

“And we could set a limit for how much it’s allowed to cost, and sit down before we go to make sure we’re within budget,” Even says, leaning in to nose at Isak’s hair, press a kiss to his ear, looking suspiciously energetic when he pulls back.

“Are you… into this?” Isak asks, suspicions confirmed by Even’s blush. “Oh my god, you are.”

“It’s just nice, you know. It’ll be like a, like a thing.”

“What kind of thing?” Isak asks.

“An Isak and Even thing,” he beams. “Our list, in our flat, on our fridge.”

“Okay. An Isak and Even thing,” Isak smiles before his breath is taken away by a slightly over-enthusiastic kiss, followed by another, and another.

 

He goes to sleep that night with a little less weight on his chest than before. It’s funny how much of a difference it makes.

 

-

 

“Can I, um, talk to you about something?” 

Jonas wipes some pizza grease onto his jeans before picking up another slice. “Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I…” Isak settles and resettles on the floor. The mere thought of what he’s about to do is a little daunting, but he knows he should’ve done it ages ago. The fact that he didn’t is probably the source of fifty percent of his current nerves. “I didn’t really like Fredrik.”

Jonas pauses the game.

“Like, I was into him and he’s hot and all that but he’s not… nice,” Isak says, searching for the right words as he goes. Surprisingly, they’re not that hard to find. “He said some things and then I just kinda believed them even if they weren’t… true, I guess. And I know you think we were happy and shit so I just wanted to say that we weren’t. Or, like. I wasn’t.”

“You were together for months,” Jonas says.

“Yeah.”

“Was it like that the whole time?”

Isak shakes his head. “Not in the beginning, but like, for a while.”

Jonas looks at Isak. Isak looks away.

He knows it’s about to drop. The slightly heavy questions implying guilt, even though Jonas won’t mean it like that. How Isak didn’t tell him even though they’re supposed to be best friends, how Isak let Jonas believe a lie about something that important, how Isak let Jonas down by not letting him in.

He’s not even steeling himself for it, knows that he deserves to be put down by Jonas over this.

“Did you tell someone?” Jonas asks. He doesn't sound angry.

“Yeah, Eskild.” Isak bites his lip. “He wanted me to tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“But you talked to Eskild?” Jonas asks.

Isak nods, keeping his gaze on the floor. He knows what Jonas looks like when he’s disappointed. He doesn’t need to see it.

“That’s good. I mean, it’s shit about Fredrik but I’m glad you had Eskild, at least. I’m guessing he had some advice?” Jonas says, doing air quotes around the final word.

Isak snorts. “He did. Some of it was really good, actually.”

“Did you take it?” Jonas asks.

Isak clears his throat. “Not really. Not until, like, when he came back and we… it was going on again.”

“Oh, shit,” Jonas says. “I waved him over at the party, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s fine, you didn’t-“

“No, but seriously. You were all rid of him and then I was just inviting him over,” Jonas slumps back against the couch. “That’s why you were so nervous, right?”

“Yeah.”

Jonas groans. “I knew something was up, Even was being really fucking weird about it.”

In a Pavlovian response, Isak’s heart speeds up at the mention of Even’s name. “Um, what- what do you mean?”

“Well, we went inside, and he was just like standing by the door for ages. I thought something was up with his friends because he kept checking his phone,” Jonas says. “And then when I told him that you’d left he just kinda took off.”

All coherency has left Isak. He can do nothing but stare at Jonas, trying to piece this new information together.

“No wonder he was keeping an eye out if he knew about Fredrik,” Jonas says. He throws a look at Isak, pausing in his tracks.

A beat.

“Oh. _Oh_.” Jonas nods slowly. “He didn’t know.”

Isak shakes his head.

“But he still acted weird.”

Isak nods at this newfound truth.

Jonas smiles a little. “He must’ve been into you for quite a while, then. That’s sweet. I mean, jealousy is never good but still. Kinda nice.”

Isak breathes out. “Yeah.”

‘Kinda nice’ doesn’t begin to describe the chaos inside.

 

They walk home to Jonas’ mostly under silence. It’s not until they get in that Jonas speaks up. 

“I… I hope I didn’t do something to make you feel like you couldn’t talk to me,” he says.

“You didn’t.” Isak takes off his shoes, the careless kicking a well-rehearsed routine since first grade. This house is the only place where he doesn’t feel bad for being a slob. “I just. I don’t know. I didn’t really think it was a problem at first.”

Jonas nods. “But now you do?”

They proceed down to the basement, turning on the TV and slumping down on the couch.

“Yeah. Or, like, Eskild thinks so and I’m trying this new thing where I admit that he’s right,” Isak says.

Jonas snorts. “Wow. That’s big of you.”

“I am very big.”

“Well, congratulations to Even then,” Jonas says, accepting the pillow to his face without complaint.

They fall into an easy silence while the hideous acting of Sunset Beach fills the screen. They usually mock the characters and their faux drama relentlessly but, this time, Isak can’t quite bring himself to do it. He must have revealed something in his expression because Jonas suddenly groans and throws the pillow back.

“What?”

“You’re picturing yourself and Even in their place, aren’t you?”

Isak refuses to acknowledge his blush. “No.”

“You totally are.” Jonas points to the screen. “Look, that girl is obviously you-“

“How is that obvious?” Isak interrupts.

“She’s the short one! And then that dude is Even, which I guess means that he’s totally toned because that is a serious six-pack,” Jonas says.

Isak can’t help a smug smile at that. “Well…”

“Right. So, again, ugh,” Jonas says.

“It just seems really nice, you know. The sea and stuff,” Isak says.

“And the sunset?”

“And the sunset,” Isak says. He would be embarrassed about the sappiness in his voice if not for the fact that he’s busy imagining a few days on a faraway beach with Even. “We could have a picnic.”

“Oh!” Jonas says, sitting up properly. “That reminds me, Magnus says you can actually cook now, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, I’m amazing,” Isak says. “Even taught me.”

“What, so now we can actually have home made food at yours without dying?” Jonas asks, looking like the prospect seems a little too good to be true.

With his past endeavours in cooking, Isak can’t really blame him. “Yep. I can make pasta, and quiche, and lasagne, and stews.”

“Nice,” Jonas says, holding his hand out for a high-five which Isak happily indulges. “You’re gonna have to teach me when I move out.”

“Sure,” Isak says.

Someone on screen is having a breakdown because her dad is trying to sell her… pony? That can’t be right. Isak couldn’t be less invested, but it still plays out nicely as a background to his planning of various couples’ retreats, if only within the confinements of his mind.

“You don’t like sand,” Jonas says suddenly.

All of Isak’s dream vacations suddenly turn to dust. “Fuck.”

 

The episode is almost over when Jonas turns to him again, the serious look on his face proving that he’s been using their silent time to mull things over. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t notice something was off. I never really asked you about how Fredrik was as a boyfriend.”

Isak nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

They smile at each other and a minute later, they’re back to mocking the plot points, the heavy feeling in the air completely dissipating.

 

-

 

They’ve had a good couple of days, lying on the couch and watching telly together, Even picking him up from school to walk home together, doing the shopping and having breakfast with their ankles hooked underneath the table.

It’s so nice it feels suspicious. Isak doesn’t trust mellow. He doesn’t trust relationships free from conflict and he’s been walking around waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It still surprises him when it does.

 

“Please let me take a picture,” Magnus says. 

“Why would I ever agree to that?” Isak asks, keeping a hand up over his face. He’s mushed together on the floor with Even, can feel laughter vibrate from Even’s chest through Isak’s back, warming him up.

“Because you need a pic of this moment, it’s the first time we’re going out together. It’s epic, Isak. Epic.” Magnus’ eyes are a little too wide for comfort. Isak glares at him.

Even kisses Isak’s cheek, moving back to whisper in his ear. “I’d like a photo of us.”

“You’d like to suck up to my friends,” Isak says drily. In a moment of complete madness, he drops the hand to twist around and look at Even, getting a kiss when he does.

“Got it!” Magnus shouts, already tapping away at his phone.

“If you post that anywhere, I swear to-“ Isak starts, but Magnus just rolls his eyes.

“Chill, I’m just sending it to you.”

Their phones chime simultaneously. Isak doesn’t bother pulling his out, waiting for Even to show his screen to both of them.

Isak hates to admit it, but it’s a great photo. Judging by Magnus’ pleased smirk, he knows it too.

“Instagram,” Magnus says.

“No.” Isak points a finger at him.

“I think it’s worthy of Instagram,” Jonas says. “Just get a filter on so Isak won’t look so pale.”

“No,” Isak says, giving him the finger.

Mahdi doesn’t say anything, but he does raise a suggestive eyebrow.

“No,” Isak says.

Even wraps an arm around Isak. Isak knows he’s screwed. “It is a nice picture,” Even says, his breath tickling the side of Isak’s neck.

There’s a beat of silence before Isak throws his hands up. “Fine.”

Magnus whoops.

“But it’s going on yours,” Isak says, leaning further back into Even. He gets a kiss on his temple in reward.

“Why, would it ruin your aesthetic?” Mahdi asks. “Cause you know you don’t have one.”

“Piss off,” Isak says, ignoring them all in favour of watching Even go through all the filters, carefully choosing one and then adjusting the lighting and contrast. He clicks to the last page.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Even asks, quietly enough for Isak to be the only one to hear.

Isak studies the picture for a second, seeing nothing but happiness reflected there. He grasps Even’s free hand and threads their fingers together. “Yeah.”

Even posts it. The caption is a single heart.

 

As they’re getting ready to go to Mahdi’s newfound club, Isak’s phone goes off. He pulls it up while putting his shoes on, thankful for the proximity to the floor when he sees the notification. 

Fredrik has sent him a DM on Instagram, containing the picture Even posted and a single, stupid, non-word.

_lol_

Trite as it is, Fredrik doesn’t need to write more. Isak can hear his voice in his head anyway, every little comment he would use to demean and demolish the importance of the moment.

As Isak goes to stand, his legs shake enough for Jonas to automatically reach out and steady him. He shoves the phone away before he can look at it again.

He’s with Even now.

It’s not the same.

 

The place is packed and Mahdi is smug. Isak is getting a beer and a kiss from Even so, after the standard initial complaining, he really doesn’t have anything to object to. 

He feels freer than before, knowing that he can meet new people and not have to worry that much about what they think about him, because he has Jonas and Magnus and Mahdi and Even to keep him company if these strangers turn out to be dull. He doesn’t need them to like him.

Soon enough, there’s a guy in a Ramones t-shirt starting up a conversation about music and he’s witty enough for Isak to engage. He does end up asking if he can buy Isak another drink, to which Isak replies that his boyfriend will probably get his next one as well, and the guy seems to be cool with the rebuff, only giving an apologetic shrug before going back to debating punk versus hip-hop. Isak takes a sweep of the room and is pleased to see Even standing with Jonas and Magnus. He hopes they’re getting along.

Before too long though, Isak has to break away from the conversation, his fingers itching to get back to Even's, waving his new-found friend goodbye and sneaking up next to Even. It’s not even a question of bravery to slip his hand into Even’s anymore, it’s a gesture of comfort more than anything. He’s allowed to hold Even’s hand whenever he wants and maybe it’s the beer talking, but he feels Even squeeze it a little tighter than usual, making Isak feel like he belongs.

When he looks up at Even, comfort turns into fear.

 

They go outside, Isak’s mind already coming to a conclusion he would rather be without. There are two possibilities, either Even doesn’t like Isak’s friends, or he doesn’t like going out with Isak.

Isak’s probably being too demanding. He didn’t even check if Even wanted to invite some of his actual friends, rather than force him to spend the evening with Isak’s. He should have known Even was just doing it to be nice because that’s just who he is, and Isak is taking advantage of that.

Isak tries to make up for it. Says things like “ _we could have just stayed home_ ” and “ _I don’t want you to be here just because you feel like you have to_ ”.

Even answers him with a question, one that Isak has been gearing up to asking for a long time. “What do you want us to be?”

Isak answers as honestly as he can, despite the burning in his throat warning him to open up too much, to expose himself in the cold night. It’s all worth it when Even smiles, kisses Isak’s cheek and pulls him close. Silently agreeing that they belong to one another.

And then it happens.

He knows that he shouldn’t think it’s a big deal, knows that Jonas said Even’s previous jealousy was sort of nice and that he himself told Eskild that the Even’s jealousy was different but the words are still the same.

“I got jealous of that guy you were talking to.”

Isak keeps participating in the conversation, replying and speaking as normal but really, he’s no longer present. He’s a year back in time, two years, back to when Fredrik and him first started dating and Isak talked for a beat too long with the barista, a minute too long with a classmate, a second too long with Fredrik’s childhood friend.

It wouldn’t be happening again if it weren’t for Isak provoking it. It can’t all be in Fredrik's head if Even’s noticed it too, Even with his patience and kindness and multitude of trust. If he thinks Isak is capable of cheating, it’s probably because of something Isak’s done.

Except for the fact that he didn’t do anything.

The thought is almost violent as it enters his mind, drowning out all the other ones. 

_He didn’t do anything._

Telling Even that his thinking is unfair makes a bead of sweat trickle down Isak’s back but he still does it. Having to explicitly tell Even that he would never cheat makes his stomach turn but he still does it. Standing up for himself makes him nauseous but he still does it.

He does.

 

After saying what needed to be said, Isak sits down on the cold pavement, feeling drained and hopeful all at once. Even if this doesn’t work out, he’s kept the promise he made to himself with Eskild as witness.

He’s not going to let Even treat him badly. He won’t allow it.

He’s allowed to not allow it, even if the refusal means Even leaving him behind.

 

Even doesn’t leave, doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t even make Isak take his words back. Instead, he gives Isak some of his own, handing Isak an anchor to hold on to when his thoughts start to wander, to question.

“I want you to be my boyfriend, and I want us to be exclusive.”

Isak’s heart is going into ultra rapid but his voice is strong when he returns the words, his breathing steady as he sees their impact on Even, how he pulls Isak closer to deepen the kiss Isak offered.

_Boyfriend_. He can almost taste the word on Even’s lips.

 

-

 

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, Isak’s only just managed to stay awake during the final lesson and is in desperate need for coffee if he’s going to make it through his study session with Sana.

They’re supposed to meet at her house and despite her stern tone telling him to “get here immediately, I’ll know if you’re slacking off on the way”, he still ducks into a coffee shop to get a to-go for the bus ride. Sana’s is only ten minutes away but those will stretch if he falls asleep and wakes up in the outskirts of town, something that’s been happening too many times for Sana to still find it funny.

He’s tired enough not to react the first time his name is called, but the second, slightly louder, one manages to get his attention. He turns towards the tables lining the walls and catches sight of Adam at one of them, waving at him.

He waves back and feels the nerves seep in as Adam points to invite him over. Isak gestures towards the counter and gets a thumbs up in response.

He orders. Waits for his drink. Sweats.

He’s never really spent time with Adam alone, not even when Even were down and Adam came over to visit. There always managed to be someone else in the room and, as a result, Adam is the only one out of Even’s friends Isak still hasn’t quite managed to pin down.

He makes his way over to the table with some trepidation, putting his coffee down carefully before taking a seat. “Hi!”

“Hi! What’s up?” Adam is clutching his tea rather tightly, but Isak isn’t one to judge.

“Um, well, just finishing last lesson. On my way to Sana’s.”

“Yeah?” Adam nods. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

“Are you… okay?” Isak asks, unsure of his footing.

Adam looks at him silently for several seconds. Isak can feel each of them increasing his sweat glands efforts to drown him.

“Even told you he’s in love with you,” Adam says rather bluntly, completely without preface.

Isak’s blush is immediate and embarrassing. “Yeah.”

“If he hadn’t, would you have told him?”

“I…” Isak clears his throat, trying to figure out just how honest he’s supposed to be. “I don’t know?”

“Right?” Adam says, rather loudly, seemingly a bit relieved.

Isak frowns, feeling completely lost.

“So, there’s this girl,” he starts, and Isak is immediately back on track. “And she’s like, into me a little. I think. Maybe. And the guys are like all over me trying to get me to say... stuff to her and I don’t know if I should, because how would you know that?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Isak says.

“But then Even just went straight up and told you, and that worked out, so maybe they’re right?” Adam sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Well, yeah, but I was pretty obvious about being in love with Even,” Isak says. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it still makes his pulse speed up, an immediate hint of a stutter coming on as a reaction to being honest about it.

Adam doesn’t seem to mind.

“And I don’t mean that she’s not, you know, interested but it’s still a risk,” Isak says carefully.

“I know.” Adam takes a sip of his tea. “Man, I wish I was more like Even.”

“I think everyone does,” Isak says, hiding his heart-eyes in his coffee cup.

They drink in silence for a while. Surprisingly, Isak can feel himself relax into it.

Adam is the first to break the quiet. “Can I ask you something? And it’s okay for you to say no, it’s a little intrusive.”

Isak’s defences immediately go on high alert, but he still wants to make a good impression. “Okay.”

“How long have you been into Even?” Adam asks, nothing but genuine interest in his voice. “Cause I had a theory that I didn’t tell anyone about but I still want to know if I was right.”

Isak smiles a little. “What’s your theory?”

“You know the moving in party you guys had for him?”

“Yeah.”

“Since then,” Adam says.

Isak takes a sip of his coffee, shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Damn,” Adam says, moping a little.

Isak decides to help him out. “Since before then.”

“Yes!” Adam exclaims, a fist in the air. “I knew I wasn’t making it up. If I was surer of it, I’d be a better wingman to you.”

Isak laughs. “Thanks.”

“That’s great though, I’m really glad you got together,” Adam says. “He’s all… glow-y now, it’s nice.”

Isak cannot stop preening, despite knowing it probably comes off as obnoxious. He’s saved by his phone chiming.

_You better be dead in a ditch somewhere_

Shit.

“Shit,” Isak says.

“What?”

Isak shows Adam the message, earning a snort. “Oh, you’re in trouble. This one time, we were all supposed to come down for dinner and we were like three minutes late. Never been more terrified in my life, she’s got some scary stares, man.”

“Are you staying?”

“Yeah, I’m waiting for… “Adam gestures vaguely.

“Oh. Really? What are you waving me over for, isn’t she going to think it’s weird to see you talking to someone else when she’s supposed to meet you?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I got here early,” Adam says.

Isak narrows his eyes a little, feeling a smile coming on. “How early?”

The tips of Adam’s ears go red. He clears his throat. “Um, an hour?”

“Wow.”

“I know,” Adam says. He looks a little like Isak felt whenever he said something too obvious to Even before they got together. “There’s still fifteen minutes left.”

“Well, um, good luck,” Isak says, standing up. He gives a nod to Adam, unsure of how else to say goodbye.

Adam holds out a fist for Isak to bump, which Isak does, continuously grateful when people help him without words.

“Thanks, Isak. Say hi to Even for me,” Adam says.

“Sure!” Isak is about to turn around when Adam clears his throat, effectively halting him.

“Also- this is weird maybe but… could you maybe reply to Mutta about that Fifa thing?” Adam asks, looking a little uncomfortable. “You don’t have to, you know, that’s up to you, but he… he thinks that you don’t like him, so if you would, like, just say you’re busy or something?”

Isak is completely out of his depth. “What?”

Adam looks up at him. “The Fifa tournament? You were going to finish it off and then you never replied?”

“He thinks I don’t like him?”

Adam nods.

Isak takes a second to get his thoughts straight before pulling out his phone.

_do you want to have that game of fifa on wednesday?_

“Okay. I invited him over.” Isak bites his lip while staring at the screen. “I didn’t- I thought he was just being nice.”

“He is nice,” Adam says. “That’s part of the whole ‘being friends’ thing he’s got going on.”

Isak rolls his eyes at Adams smirk. “Shut up.”

Adam claps, actually claps in the middle of the café. “There you go, get that honesty out. Now we’re talking.”

Isak can’t help but smile at him, switching focus when his phone goes off.

_I’m IN! I’ll bring tea_

Isak frowns. _We have tea_

_You only have shit tea, Even has no taste. dw tho, I got you_

Isak sends back three thumbs up and a star before pocketing his phone. “Okay,” he says, breathing out a little. He looks at Adam, who has gone rather pale. “Oh shit, is she here already?”

Adam nods.

“Should I go?”

Adam nods.

“Good luck.”

Adam nods. “Thanks,” he says, his voice a little wobbly.

Isak reaches over to clap his shoulder twice, feeling a little like when he used to try and befriend Jonas’ cat by awkwardly patting it on the head. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t scratch him.

 

He sends a message to Sana as he jogs towards the bus. _Sorry sorry sorry, be there soon_

_Fine_

Before he can send another apology, the speech bubble appears again. _Don’t jog to the bus, you’ll get run over._

Isak smiles, slows down and lands in the notion that he’s got more people than ever looking out for him.

It’s a heady thought.

 

-

 

They’ve been officially boyfriends for almost a week, but Isak knows it doesn’t really count until he’s been completely honest with Even, until he’s let Even in on his secrets in the same way Even’s let Isak in on his.

He ends up making a quiche for dinner as he waits for Even to get home from the library, funnily enough finding cooking quite calming now instead of the dreaded task it used to be. There’s a methodology to it which Isak appreciates, can get lost in the rhythm of getting the pastry together, chopping vegetables for the filling, rolling the dough out and topping it all off with grated cheese.

It doesn’t take nearly as long to finish as when he first started, which is good most days but, as he keeps staring at the oven timer, isn’t really helping at the moment.

Even comes through the door a minute before the clock is set to go off. He’s whistling _My Bonnie_ and Isak is too fond to function. “Hi!”

The whistling quiets until Even sticks his head in the kitchen and turns it into a sound of appreciation. He’s casually ogling Isak, letting his eyes travel down to his bare feet and up to his messy hair. “You look so good.” 

It’s ridiculous how every single compliment still makes him blush, but Isak’s decided to forgive his body for it as it nearly always leads to kissing.

Today is no exception. Even strides over, runs his thumbs over Isak’s cheekbones while gently tipping his face up before placing a soft kiss on Isak’s lips.

“Can you believe that we live together?” Even whispers before darting in for another kiss. “Like, you’re my roommate _and_ my boyfriend.”

He foregoes the kissing to draw Isak into a hug, burying his nose in Isak’s hair. “It’s the greatest thing ever.”

Isak hugs back without second thought. “Are you… high?”

“High on you,” Even replies instantly, swaying them back and forth a little. He pulls back to plop down on the table in front of Isak. “No, but I was on the bus and there was this old couple who had matching outfits? And I thought that they probably have a house together and see each other every day and can, like, dress each other in the morning and then fall asleep together at night and I was thinking how nice that must be and then I, you know.” He looks a little sheepish.

“You realized that that’s what we do?” Isak rests his hands on Even’s knees, stroking his fingers across the denim.

“That is what we do,” Even says, just as the oven times goes off. He lights up. “Did you cook?”

“Mhm. I made the best spinach and feta quiche.” Isak is not about to hide his pride, he’s worked way too hard to get good at this to not boast about it a little.

“I love quiche,” Even says, his eyes so, so warm as they follow the path of his fingers, painting Isak’s features with soft touches. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Isak says, knowing that he would do a lot more for a lot less.

 

They’re halfway through eating when Isak clears his throat. He’s beyond grateful Linn is visiting her parents, doing this with only Even in the flat is hard enough. 

“Even?”

“Mm?” They’re sitting opposite each other, their hands linked as they always are unless they absolutely need both hands to eat. Even strokes a thumb across Isak’s knuckles.

“You know how I got upset when you said you were jealous?” He needs to take this step by step, or he’s not going to be able to get through it.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for that.” His voice hides no lies.

Isak waves the apology away. “It’s okay, but, um. I just- Fredrik used to say that. Quite a lot.” He draws patterns on the discarded crust with his fork. “And I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t all your fault that I got, like, angry and stuff.”

“He got jealous?” Even puts his fork down, turning all his focus to Isak. Somehow, it doesn’t feel stifling. “In what way?”

Isak shrugs. “Every way? He didn’t like it when I… paid too much attention to other people, I guess. I mean, it’s not that weird really, because we were together and I shouldn’t _want_ to spend all my time with other guys but, you know, it just kept happening, so.”

Even stays quiet. When Isak looks up at him, Even looks a little lost.

Isak should have never brought this up. “I’m sorry, that’s a bit much, we should- we should just eat. Sorry.”

“No, no. I just. What guys were you talking to?” There’s no accusation in Even’s tone, which makes Isak question the point of asking.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, Jonas is a guy,” Even says. “Magnus is a guy. Eskild is a guy. Mahdi is a guy.”

Isak looks down, concentrating on cutting his remaining food up in smaller pieces. “Yeah.”

Even reaches over to cup Isak’s cheek, not forcing him to move, just keeping it there. Warming Isak a little, millimetre by millimetre.

“Did anyone of them notice?” Even asks. His voice is very small now, Isak doesn’t like it. He can’t handle pity.

“No. I’ve told Jonas now though. And Eskild knew.” Isak kind of wants to pull away to prove that he’s alright, but that would mean no longer touching Even.

He’s not risking that, staying put and hoping Even isn’t looking at him like something needing fixing. Isak can fix himself, he doesn’t want Even to take that responsibility on.

“It’s not a big deal, I just wanted you to know,” Isak says. “And it’s not like I didn’t hang out with them anyway, because I did.”

“But you got into fights about it?” Even asks, his hand still moving, brushing over Isak’s skin.

“It wasn’t really fights,” Isak says. He regrets bringing it up in the first place. “Just… I didn’t want him to be jealous and I don’t want you to be jealous and- I’m just a bit tired of it, I guess.”

Even clears his throat. A couple of times. His voice is still rough when he speaks. “I get that. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you can’t talk to people. I trust you.”

Isak nods. “I trust you, too.”

“That’s good,” Even says. He tilts his head. “Is it okay for me to be jealous of your rapping skills, or is that off the table too?”

Isak breaks out into a grin, feeling Even’s thumb trace it carefully. “I mean, you’re never not going to be jealous of them, so might as well stop fighting it.”

Even sighs. “True. Maybe I should try and steal it?”

“Steal what?”

“Your rapping,” Even stands up, slowly making his way over. “I bet if I kissed you well enough, I could just snatch the flow right from your mouth.”

“As if,” Isak says, his heart rate going up for every step Even takes.

“Can I try?” Even says, pulling Isak up out of his chair only to box him in against the table. “I promise to do my best.”

Isak pulls him closer, rucks up Even’s hoodie to trace the length of his spine. He’s always so warm, his Even is, Isak’s hands feel like they’re melting whenever they touch him. “Yeah. You can try.”

Even leans in, brushes their noses together before capturing Isak’s lips. A wave of calmness, of belonging, washes over Isak and he breathes out shakily against Even’s cheek. He needs to be closer, so he spreads his legs enough to pull Even in between them, locking him into place.

He kisses him and he kisses him and he kisses him. The food is getting cold, but Isak keeps kissing him. The table is digging into Isak’s back but he keeps kissing him. He’s completely out of breath but he keeps kissing him.

Finally, it’s Even who pulls back, panting slightly. “Is it okay to quote Romeo and Juliet right now or would that ruin the mood?”

Isak groans and lets his head fall down on Even’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry baby but it fits really well, because they talk about stealing sin from each others lips, and I was trying to get your flow, so-“

“Stop saying flow,” Isak grumbles, getting a mouthful of fabric in his mouth for the trouble.

“Okay, um, I was trying to get your... stream?”

There’s a second of absolute silence before they both lose it.

“Oh my god,” Isak wheezes out, standing up straighter to be able to look at Even, share the space of his laughter.

“Sorry, sorry, it was the first thing that I could think of,” Even says, waving his hands into Isak’s hair. “God, that was terrible.”

“Yep,” Isak says, somewhat calming down. “But I forgive you.”

“Thanks,” Even says, placing quick kisses on Isak’s cheek.

“But I won’t forgive you if my quiche is completely cold before you finish it,” Isak adds, pinching Even’s sides.

“Ow, okay. I’ll finish it, don’t worry.” Even wriggles his eyebrows, earning another pinch. He laughs. “Okay, okay.”

He spins Isak back into his chair, dragging his own plate and fork from across the table to land right next to Isak’s. He pulls out the chair Linn usually sits in and scoots it closer to Isak, not sitting down until there’s virtually no space in between them.

Isak doesn’t mind, even though he only has room to eat with his fork in his left hand. Having Even close by is worth every inconvenience.

 

-

 

Wednesday afternoon comes with nerves. Isak paces around the flat and tidies a little more than necessary, ending up straightening a few photo frames and get rid of non-existent dust on top of the television. 

Even is out, Linn is in her room and Mutta is on his way. He’s been updating Isak on his progress every time he’s switched mode of transportation, from walking to the tram to sitting on the tram to walking again.

The door buzzes and Isak needs to take a breath. He’s met Mutta before and it’s been fine. They’ve even had a few good discussions about physics without Isak feeling like he’s been too pushy or preachy. It’s not going to be the end of the world.

Mutta hugs him the minute Isak opens the door. “Hi, hello, how are you?”

“Um, good, I’m good. You alright?” Isak says, clapping Mutta’s back a little awkwardly.

“I’ll be better when I beat you,” Mutta says. He pulls back to hold up a plastic bag. “I brought tea! And mum made scones, so I stole some of them too. You have jam, right?”

“Yeah, apricot,” Isak says, unable to not scrunch up his nose at it.

“Even chose it, huh?”

Isak nods.

“I told you he’s got bad taste,” Mutta says. “Except for when it comes to boyfriends. Great taste in that. Phenomenal.”

Isak laughs. “Okay. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Mutta trails him into the kitchen, starting in on a story about how he nearly got stuck in the tram doors as he was getting out. He keeps up a steady conversation throughout the time it takes for the water to boil, and while they’re eating. Less than an hour after he came through the door, he’s gotten Isak totally at ease.

Isak has never doubted Even’s choice of friends, but this makes him more appreciative of it than ever.

 

By the time Even gets home, Linn has joined them on the couch, viciously tearing through Mutta’s back line. 

“That’s just mean,” Isak says as she scores another goal.

“Yeah, let a man at least try to defend himself,” Mutta says. “I’m sad now.”

Linn shrugs. “I can’t help that you suck.”

Isak snorts at Mutta’s offended face, before noticing Even standing in the doorway. Even smiles at him, mouths a greeting. Isak replies in kind.

“Hi, Even!” Mutta says a second later, letting go of the console to wave.

Linn scores another goal.

“Oh, come on,” Mutta groans, flopping down against the backrest. “I need a hug.”

Even laughs. “Tough competition?”

“Linn is ruthless,” Mutta says.

Even gives her a high-five before sitting down between Isak and Mutta. “Hi baby,” he says before giving Isak a kiss, laying a hand on his thigh.

“Hi, honey, how was your day?” Mutta asks, poking Even’s arm. “Did you have a nice study session?” 

“I did,” Even says, eyeing Mutta’s exaggerated cow eyes for a moment before rolling his own. “Fine, come here,” he says, raising his arm to let Mutta slide in under it.

Isak peaks over at Mutta. “Have you given up playing? Cause I’ll take over if you want.”

“Yes, please,” Mutta says, handing the console over.

Isak gets lost in the game but still manages to keep track of the waves of Even’s voice, the ups and downs of his tone, his occasional laughter. It’s amplified by Even’s hand still resting on Isak’s leg, providing an anchor without weighing him down.

 

“We should hang out more,” Mutta says an hour later as he pulls on his jacket. 

“Yeah, that’s- that would be cool,” Isak says. He’s still not quite sure why Mutta wants to hang out with him alone, but Isak will gladly take the offer.

“Cool,” Mutta repeats, smiling at Isak. “Bye, Even,” he shouts, making Isak jump a little.

“Bye, Muttalicious,” Even hollers from the kitchen.

Mutta rolls his eyes before giving Isak a hug. “See you later.”

“Bye,” Isak says, giving Mutta a wave as he disappears down the stairs.

He closes the door and spins around to rest his back against it. Even pokes his head out from the kitchen.

“You look hot like that,” he says.

Isak raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Makes me want to ravage you,” Even says, his smile too innocent for his words.

Isak smiles. “Go on then.”

“My hands are wet,” Even says, pouting a little.

“Is that a pick-up line?”

“No, I’m in the middle of doing the dishes.” Even holds his hands up. They’re dripping on the floor.

Isak huffs out a laugh, arching his back a little. It draws Even’s eye, which is pretty much the exact reaction Isak was looking for. “Just dry them on your shirt.”

“Yes, alright, I’ll do that,” Even says, absentmindedly wiping his hands as his eyes stay glued to Isak’s body. “You’re so smart.”

“Thank you,” Isak says, raising an eyebrow. Even is within touching distance now, which is Isak’s preferred place for him to be. Isak pulls him in by his belt loops, their hips meeting before their lips do.

“Such a smart boyfriend,” Even mumbles as he drags his lips down Isak’s throat. “And nice. And funny. And pretty.”

“And hot?” Isak asks, busy unbuttoning Even’s shirt, finally getting his hands inside.

“Hot as fuck,” Even agrees as he pulls Isak into another kiss.

It always turns Isak’s head all fuzzy when Even manages to be everywhere at once. His arms are around Isak’s back, one of his hands on Isak’s ass and his teeth biting down on Isak’s bottom lip, his tongue following to soothe the sting.

Isak feels pretty much useless, but he manages to get a hand up to Even’s neck, pressing a thumb down on his pulse point like he knows Even usually likes. The corresponding moan is proof that Isak’s observation remains relevant. He tries to kiss back as good as he gets, can’t help but lick into Even’s mouth, map out the roof of it, the way Even sinks into it when Isak slows the kiss down.

“Ugh.”

They freeze. Isak separates their lips with an embarrassingly wet sound. “Linn is home,” he whispers.

“It would seem that way,” Even whispers back.

“I’m taking your ice cream,” Linn says. “As compensation for having to see this.”

“That seems fair,” Even says, his mouth still only a hairsbreadth away from Isak’s.

“I really like that ice cream,” Isak says, not able to stop the somewhat petulant tone in his voice. “Even. She’s gonna take all of it and then I can’t have any.”

“Do you want to go buy some more?” Even kisses him before Isak can bring up the obvious problem with the plan. “We’ll put the cost of it on next week’s list.”

Isak thinks it over for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If we can make out in the stairwell for a while before we go,” Isak says, slipping a hand in Even’s back pocket.

Even takes a very slow and calculated breath. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I get my ice cream,” Isak says sweetly.

 

Three of their neighbours walk through the front door while Isak’s got Even pressed up against the adjacent wall. It’s quite telling of how often they’ve ended up there when none of them even react at the sight.

 

-

 

It’s a soft evening, the hours before going to bed and waking up to face a hectic day, both of them busy with school stuff but not busy enough to justify getting off the couch. They lie side-by-side, their hands linked.

“What if I had never moved in?” Even asks, turning to Isak. “Imagine if you’d picked someone else to be your new flatmate.”

Isak has long since given up any sense of being cautious around Even, trusting him not to mock any of the more indulgent thoughts he has about their relationship, so he rolls over to look Even in the eye and tells the simple truth. “There was no one else to pick.”

Even raises his eyebrows. Isak leans over to kiss the space in between them. Before he can pull back, Even presses a quick kiss to his mouth.

Isak leans back, licking his lips to catch the fleeting warmth from Even’s.

“What do you mean?” Even asks. He stretches out a little, miles and miles of soft skin lain out in front of Isak. Shared with him. Given to him.

“You were the first one we talked to, and both me and Linn liked you so we just cancelled the other interviews,” Isak says, shrugging. “You were our only option.”

“Really?” Even asks. There’s a small smile on his face, the same as every other time he’s heard Isak say something he doesn’t think he deserves.

“Really,” Isak says, determined to make Even understand just how much he’s worthy of all the praise Isak can give. He’ll make it a lifelong mission as long as Even doesn’t have any objections.

Even is still smiling when Isak kisses him. It makes it taste a little more like home.

 

“I thought you were moving,” Isak says a while later, carefully mapping out the pattern of Even’s t-shirt with his fingertip. 

“Hm?” Even is half-asleep, bleary eyes faking a focus on the TV.

“When you said you like me,” Isak says, biting his lip. It’s something he feels like Even should know, even if it casts Isak in a particularly idiotic light. “I thought you were going to say that you were leaving.”

“But…” Even sits up a little, which slides Isak’s head a little further down his chest. “Where would I go?”

Isak gives a half-shrug. “I don’t know. To live with Elias and the guys, maybe.”

Even hums. He cards a careful hand through Isak’s hair, his knuckles occasionally brushing Isak’s neck. It’s the most intimate gesture Isak knows, and it overtakes him every time. Makes him feel worth it, worth Even, worth everything.

He’d like to live in that feeling.

“I think I would’ve liked to do that if I didn’t know anything else,” Even says. “But now I know what it’s like to live with you, and as long as you’re an alternative, that’s what I’ll choose.”

Isak squirms a little, but still looks up to catch Even’s eye. It’s such a lovely look, the one he’s giving Isak, unlike any other. Isak knows because he’s catalogued them all.

“I’m an alternative,” he says, a rather redundant statement since his very existence in the room makes that obvious. “So you should stay.”

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Even’s smile is too soft for Isak to take in but he keeps his eyes on it anyway.

He can look now, confident that Even sees no one but him as he’s looking back.

 

-

 

Isak stares at the page. Glares at it. Takes a coffee pause. Comes back. Glares a little more.

He wants to understand it, wants to follow the author’s train of thought and read the schematics with some sort of clarity but he just doesn’t get it. It’s frustrating and it’s stupid.

He’s not entirely sure where he gets the courage from, but he’s taken his phone out and is in the middle of typing before he can stop himself. _Hi, I’m having trouble understanding some of chapter nine, do you have any tips?_

He sends it off. Pushes the phone away.

Picks it up again. There’s a writing bubble.

_It took me a few tries too. Don’t really know if I can explain it over text._

Isak hurries to reply. _no, of course not. I’ll just go over it again!_

_Do you have Skype?_

 

Five minutes later, he’s answering the call, Even’s dad waving from what looks like an office. “Hiya!” 

“Hi,” Isak says. “Are you at work?”

“Yeah, got stuck here waiting for a report with nothing to do,” he says.

“Oh. Do you have to do that a lot?” Isak asks.

“Sometimes, yeah. It’s not that bad. I actually brought the book with me, cause I figured I could get some reading done, but then I finished it and was back to being bored. It’s a good thing you texted, I’ve been wanting to talk to someone about this actually.” He disappears out of the frame for a moment, the sound of books falling following him. “Crap.”

He pops back into view. “Got it! Right, so chapter nine?”

“Yeah,” Isak says. “It’s just, I don’t really get why it’s written so differently? Like, the other ones I get but this one just deteriorates completely and there’s no foundation for it?”

“I thought so to, but I have a theory,” Even’s dad says, flipping through the pages.

Isak settles in.

 

They go through the entire chapter and then some, before changing over to the topic of school and teachers. Even’s dad is apparently well aware of the inappropriateness of Isak’s biology teacher, but the virtues of the physics one seems to have escaped him. 

They’re in the middle of it when Even comes home, Isak immediately feeling a little ashamed when he has to explain what he’s done. He doesn’t want Even to think that he’s trying to worm his way into Even’s family before Even’s decided to introduce him properly but, as always, Even doesn’t react like Isak thinks he will. He reacts better.

 

The second Even invites Isak over to his parents’ house to make out, Isak knows there is nothing strong enough to hold him back. He’s going to be Even’s until he’s being shoved away and so far, Even’s done nothing but pull him closer. He makes a mental note of reminding himself to tell Even about the bookshop run-in, saving it for a later hour when he's not quite so occupied with Even's lips on his.

 

-

 

_hi!_

Isak tries to find the hidden meaning in the message, but it’s somewhat unclear. He types back an identical text and hopes for clarity.

_how are you?_

Not exactly helpful. _I’m good._

_How are you?_ He adds a second later, not wanting to seem rude. 

_Good! So listen, I know that you know and you know that I know about, you know._

Isak sighs. Even through text, Mikael is completely unreadable. _I don’t think I know?_

_About Even and me._

Right. _Right._

The collected memories of Even being miserable still hurt sometimes and it’s quite unfair and completely illogical, but Isak hasn’t really forgiven Mikael for not wanting Even back, for not loving him in the way Even wanted.

_I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable and I don’t want it to be weird so I was thinking that maybe we could do something together? Like see a movie or something. Or eat. Everyone eats, so we could do that together. Sometime._

Before Isak has finished reading it, another message comes through.

_Sorry for the long text. Also sorry for double texting._

Isak’s reply is mostly automatic. _There’s nothing wrong with double texting._

_THANK YOU!!!!! That’s what I always say and everyone says it’s annoying but it’s not._

Isak feels his smile grow despite himself. _Totally agree._

_good! I feel this is a good start._

Isak sends the 100 emoji back.

Baby steps, he tells himself as he reads through the conversation again and feels the vibration of another message coming in. Baby steps.

 

-

 

“So what’s new with you guys? I never see you anymore, it’s not fair,” Eskild says, waving his straw around and making way too much noise for the quiet mood in the sedated café. Miraculously, the barista Eskild spent five minutes flirting with is still eyeing him with unclouded interest.

Isak looks at him before looking back at Eskild, smiling when he catches Eskild’s wink and Linn’s answering eye roll.

“Nothing much,” Isak shrugs. “Just same old, acing my classes and hooking up with my extremely hot boyfriend, you know, the usual.”

“Ooh, look at casual Cathy over here,” Eskild says. “I’m really happy you’re back to bragging about your life, it’s been far too long.”

Isak’s smile is a tad too serious for the conversation, but not for the implication. “I know.”

Eskild leans over to squeeze his hand. “Proud of you.” He stays serious for a beat before pulling back to fling himself on Linn. “What about you?”

“I’m good,” Linn says. She’s been looking better lately, smiles less elusive than usual. “I like my therapist, she’s nice.”

“That’s great,” Eskild says. “I was a little worried when you said she had blue hair, but good for her.”

Isak looks between them, feeling as if they’ve skipped a couple of steps. “Wait, hang on. You have a therapist?”

“You didn’t know that?” Linn looks at him with obvious surprise.

“Um, no. Wha- okay. And she’s nice. That’s cool,” Isak says, feeling himself glide out on dangerously thin ice. “I’m happy for you. Not happy that you need one but happy that you’ve… gotten one.”

Eskild gives him a very unsubtle thumbs up. It helps a little.

Linn is still staring at him. “Even didn’t tell you?”

Isak shakes his head.

“He went with me. The first time, when I was getting diagnosed and stuff.” The words get a little stuck but she perseveres in pushing them out.

Sometimes, Isak can’t quite believe he’s ended up with such strong people surrounding him. It makes him feel less weak.

“I really thought he told you.”

“Nope,” Isak says. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m torn,” Eskild says, pursing his lips a little, “between being jealous that Isak’s got the nicest boyfriend and happy that I’m still single and able to hook up with hot baristas.”

“You've hooked up with him already?” Linn asks, casting a glance towards the counter.

Eskild waves a hand. “I will.”

“I do have the nicest boyfriend,” Isak says smugly.

“Alright, don’t over-brag. It’s not cute,” Eskild says. “Right, Linn?”

“Right,” she says, a mouthful of pastry in her mouth. “Can we talk about _Married at first sight_ now?”

Isak huffs. “I don’t watch that.”

“We share a living room. And a TV,” Linn says pointedly.

Isak blushes a little. “Fuck.” He sighs. “Alright, so the whole thing with Karin was just unreal.”

“I know!” Eskild says. “It was just straight up rude, I don't know how she wasn't just thrown out on the spot.”

“You don’t go around smacking people like that,” Isak says. “I don’t care if they spilled hummus on your shirt.”

“I liked it, that guy seemed like a douchebag anyway,” Linn says, shrugging.

“A douchebag she’s married to,” Isak says.

“I think they’ll stay together,” Eskild says. “I’ll bet you on it.”

Isak and Linn exchange a look before grinning. “You’re on.”

 

They stay until closing time, Eskild going home with a phone number and Isak with a free paper bag of day-old bread. He managed to get three buns with raisins, Linn’s favourite, without her noticing and three with poppy seeds for Even. If his calculations are right, that should get him approximately sixty kisses, a few more if he wakes up before Even to display them properly.

He ends up losing count after ninety-four.

 

-

 

The days sort of float together, no particular points of reference for Isak to get hung up on and mull over which makes the weeks go so much quicker and infinitely less painful. 

He’s even deigned to share his lunch with Magnus without it being a bribe, pushing the container of pasta salad across the table. It’s just the two of them, Mahdi and Jonas having chosen to skip the afternoon in favour of going to the skate park.

“Yes! There’s spinach in there, awesome,” Magnus says, piercing several leafs and topping it with an olive. “Thank you.”

Isak nods. “Why don’t you have any food?”

“Mum is down,” Magnus shrugs. “And I can’t be arsed to cook. I’ve got money though,” he says when catching sight of Isak’s worry, “I was going to buy something. It’s not like I’m starving.”

“Okay, good.” Isak spears a piece of pasta, taking a small bite. “Is she alright?”

“Not right now,” Magnus says. “But she will be.”

Isak nods. “We, um. We always cook quite a lot of food.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, and we usually just put it in the freezer, cause it’s good to have some days when we don’t feel like making dinner, but. I’ll bring you some. This week. And next week.” He doesn’t want for it to come off as charity, so he keeps his eyes on the container, chasing a cherry tomato round the edges. “If you want.”

“Holy shit, that'd be amazing, especially since you're good at cooking now," Magnus says. He takes another bite before tapping Isak's hand with his fork. "Hey, Isak?"

Isak looks up. "What?"

“You’re good at taking care of people.”

His cheeks flush. “Shut up,” he mumbles, pulling his hood up.

Magnus mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key but he keeps smiling throughout the rest of the lunch break.

 

-

 

Isak likes to push their feet together, see them rest next to each other. There is something about the most mundane part of him tangled with the same part of Even that calms him, that makes he look down at them as something turned beautiful, something worth having.

He feels a little stupid when he tells Even, but he doesn’t try to take it back.

Even smiles at him. “I’ve never thought of it like that.” He wriggles his toes closer to Isak’s. “That’s a really nice way to think about feet.”

Isak snorts, ready to make a joke of it, but Even’s hand tangling with his own stops him.

“I like the way you look at things,” Even says. “Makes me feel like there’s something more, you know.”

“There is something more,” Isak says, squeezing Even’s hand.

“Yeah,” Even says, leaning in for a kiss. “There is.”

As they pull away, Isak asks the thing he’s been both scared and anxious to know the answer to. “When did you start liking me?”

Even hums a little, buries a hand in Isak’s hair and pulls him closer. “You were standing next to me,” he starts, his voice a little slower as it always is when he’s telling a story. Isak likes Even’s voice always, but this version is his favourite. “While I was cooking, was making this stew that I’d never tried before, and you handed me the salt and leaned a little closer to me. I looked at you and… that was it.”

It’s such a simple explanation and yet it makes Isak blush all over. “Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” Even says. “And then I freaked out because I’d caught feelings for yet _another_ one of my best friends and I don’t want to be the guy who just-“

“I’m one of your best friends?” Isak asks, not even feeling guilty about interrupting. This is too big to wait.

“Well, yeah.” Even looks at him as if this was an undeniable truth, which it very much is not. Isak has been denying it for a while. “Of course you are.”

Isak can only stare. “Oh.”

“You know…” Even says, his voice breaking a little. He swallows. “You know how I said you’re my favourite person?”

The memory is forever burned onto one of Isak’s ribs, the scripture of it sometimes shining through his skin, making the air above it glow. Isak can sometimes see it late at night, when Even’s sleeping next to him and there is no worry left in Isak’s body. There are other ones written on the rest of his ribs, of his mum and Jonas and Eskild and Sana. Even’s is on the one closest to his heart.

“Yeah,” Isak says, quietly and a little too late.

Even doesn’t seem to mind the wait. He never really does and Isak doesn’t quite yet get it, but he accepts it now. He allows himself to adore it.

“You still are,” Even says. “And I- I love you.”

Something inside Isak blooms.

“I love you,” Isak breathes, quickly, hoping it’s fast enough for Even not to have time to worry about it. Isak never wants him to worry about it.

There is a distinct shine in Even’s eyes as he smiles at Isak. Isak kisses the closest part of Even, which happens to be his sweater-clad arm. He lingers a little with his forehead pressed against Even’s shoulder, taking a few moments just to live.

“I’m happy,” he says, confessing it like a sin. “I’m happy with you.”

Even leans down to carefully rest his head on top of Isak’s, letting Isak hide for a little while longer, not questioning the need for it. “I’m happy with you, too.”

Isak feels a little overwhelmed, but he keeps clutching Even’s hand, keeps breathing Even in until he calms down, until he can let some of the control go again. “I’m not very good at it,” he says. “I might need some help.”

If he knew how freeing those words would be, he would have tried to speak them sooner.

Even tilts down to kiss a feather light kiss on Isak’s temple. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Isak curls a little closer.

For all its difficulties, sometimes it’s as easy as that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it now, for real. i want to thank everyone who has read, commented or talked about these fics with me, it's meant the world, so thank you so, so much.
> 
> also, i'd like to give a huge amount of love to all the people on twitter who has read and liked these stories, i'm not on twitter myself so i haven't been able to take part in it but i've gotten a few messages about it on tumblr, so i just wanted to give you a shout out here, since i can't thank you on your actual platform. 
> 
> as always, my tumblr is [right here](http://icelandcurry.tumblr.com) and [here you can find a post for this chapter](http://icelandcurry.tumblr.com/post/166010778067/snapshots-of-a-scattered-heart-chapter-4)

**Author's Note:**

> it's been almost a month since the end of 'a mental archive' and i gave a promise that i would write a little about isak's side of the story. the chapters won't be long and i don't know if they really add anything to it, but i'm selfish enough to hold onto this universe for a bit longer. i hope you like it.


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